Outcasts, page 13
“That time will come sooner than you believe.”
“Only if we reach the tel in time,” ‘Ayomuu noted in Sangheili. “If you allow the humans in the Owl to recover the weapon before we arrive—”
“I hope you will forgive the Oath Warden’s rudeness,” ‘Vadam said, still speaking to Petrov in English. “He worries that I am not doing enough to hurry you along.”
Petrov warily eyed ‘Ayomuu. “What’s the rush, Oath Warden?”
“Only that I trust you no more than you trust us,” ‘Ayomuu replied. “How are we to know you are not delaying us here unnecessarily?”
Petrov turned to ‘Vadam in disbelief. “He’s joking, right?”
“Sangheili do not jest,” ‘Vadam said. “Perhaps it would be better to explain it to him.”
Petrov rolled her eyes, but faced ‘Ayomuu. “Why would I want to delay you?”
“You said yourself that you lack trust for us. Perhaps you are hoping for more Owls to insert.”
“First, how would I even know there are still any humans up there? Our last comm unit died ages ago.”
“You do not need to know,” ‘Ayomuu said. “Your hope could be enough.”
“What hope? You saw what the claw strike did to that insertion force. For all we know, it wiped out every vessel in orbit—human and Sangheili.”
It was a possibility ‘Vadam had not considered—and one that seemed all too likely, given what Petrov had suggested about the Sangheili inside the tel misinterpreting the nature of the two insertions. Fighting back a swell of alarm, he pushed his helmet outside the cave entrance and activated his comm unit, attempting to make contact with one of the surveillance satellites put into orbit before they inserted.
He heard only an oscillating whistle, so eerie and shrill that it made his spine prickle.
“Don’t bother.” Petrov pointed to the still-undulating ground between them and the crater rim. “Your signal won’t stabilize until things settle down.”
‘Vadam studied the ground long enough to see that the waves remained almost as high as they had been a few minutes earlier. “How long will that be?”
“Who knows? I’ve only been through this twice before, and I wasn’t taking notes.”
“You are only trying to worry us.” ‘Ayomuu’s tone was accusing. “Any vessels on the far side of their orbit would be shielded by the bulk of the planet.”
“You’re ignoring the portal,” Petrov said. “The claw may look like it’s rising out of the planet interior, but it’s translocating. It could be coming from anywhere and going to anywhere.”
‘Vadam understood slipspace and the curvature of space-time well enough to know she was correct. He had not actually seen the claw strike, but he had automatically assumed it rose in a straight line from the tel to the human dropships. That was not possible. The insertion force had been spread out across several degrees of sky, so a single, straight-line attack could not have eliminated them all. Either the claw had been more of a huge column than a line, or there had been multiple claws, or the claw had split into several forks, or it had leapt from one dropship to another, or…
The possibilities were more than ‘Vadam could articulate, and probably more than he could comprehend. He understood only two things—the weapon was devastating, and he had no idea how it functioned.
“You said two rescue missions have been stopped by the claw strike,” ‘Vadam said. “What became of the second one?”
“I wish I knew,” Petrov said. “We were on the citadel digging our way inside, hoping to lure the enemy into an ambush, when orbital mines began to detonate above the clouds. It had been maybe ten standard years since the first claw appeared, but that’s not something you forget. A detachment of volunteers insisted on staying behind to attempt entry when the portal opened, and I brought everyone else back here to ride out the reconciliation wave. We never even made contact before the rescue mission was destroyed.”
“What of your volunteers?” ‘Ayomuu asked. “Were they able to penetrate the—”
“If they were successful, then they didn’t survive.” Petrov fell silent and looked away. “We never heard from them again.”
“It is always lamentable to lose courageous warriors,” ‘Vadam said. “Especially when a plan does not succeed.”
“That was desperation,” Petrov said. “Not a plan.”
“Sometimes desperation is a plan,” ‘Vadam said. “They were worthy warriors.”
“They were stubborn fools. But I loved them for it.”
‘Vadam found the declaration puzzling, as it would never occur to a Sangheili commander to nest with one of his warriors—or to take as a subordinate anyone to whom he had a close personal attachment. But humans were a sentimental species who seemed to have no control over their emotions, so it was hardly surprising to hear that a commander had become personally entangled with her inferiors.
Or perhaps such entanglements had just been impossible to avoid, given the small size of her keep on N’ba. Perhaps Petrov was mother and commander both to the young humans she led.
“I admire your resolve,” ‘Vadam said. “From what I understand of human love, it must have been a difficult thing to allow.”
“This is Netherop. Everything is hard.”
“What about leaving?” ‘Vadam asked. “Will that be difficult as well? I ask only because it has been your home for so long.”
“And the only home most of my soldiers have ever known.” Petrov glanced toward the rear of the cavern. “I’m not sure they believe me when I tell them how bountiful Rea—their ancestral home—is.”
It did not escape ‘Vadam’s notice that Petrov had almost said Reach and called it the ancestral place of her soldiers—suggesting they might also be of her own blood. Given that he had been supreme commander of the forces that glassed the planet, he decided it might be wiser and kinder to let a fellow human tell her Reach had seen one of the most ferocious battles of the war. It was no longer the bountiful world she remembered, and he was responsible. Were he to inform her of that, she would likely seek the vengeance that was hers by right, and his companions would end up slaying her and her subordinates whether or not she succeeded. Better to bear his guilt in silence and let there be calm between them, for that was the only way to atone for the terrible evil he had done in service to the Covenant.
By keeping peace with humans.
After a moment, ‘Vadam said, “Human worlds can be very welcoming indeed. I found Earth, in particular, quite lush.”
Petrov’s mouth fell open. “You know where Earth is?”
“Indeed. But have no fear. It has never fallen. The last time I was there, it was to honor a human friend.”
“You’ve been there? To Earth?”
“Have I not said so? I found its great peak of Mount Kilimanjaro extraordinarily beautiful. I would make that the first place you take your soldiers when you return.”
Petrov shook her head, as though trying to clear it. “You’re offering me sightseeing advice?”
“It is only a suggestion.” Deciding she seemed off guard enough for him to press for more intelligence, ‘Vadam swept a hand toward the still-undulating terrain outside. “How long will it be before all this calms down and we can arrange your rescue?”
“Arrange it how, exactly?”
“By entering the tel and seizing control of the weapon. So we can contact my flotilla and call for extraction.”
Petrov looked at him as though he were mad. “What makes you think your flotilla is still up there?”
A knot formed between ‘Vadam’s hearts. He had been operating on the assumption that because the tel’s occupants had allowed Sangheili Phantoms to land, they would not destroy a Sangheili flotilla. But if they had misinterpreted the two insertions, as Petrov had earlier suggested, there was no reason to expect that. They might well have launched an attack against the full flotilla.
“We have seven vessels in orbit,” ‘Vadam said. “Surely, the occupants of the tel couldn’t eliminate them all with a single strike?”
“How would I know?”
“You wouldn’t,” ‘Ayomuu said. “And you couldn’t.”
Petrov pointed a finger at the Oath Warden. “That’s right. All I know is that nothing ever makes it down here in one piece. What happens up there?” She turned her palms toward the roof of the cave and briefly raised her shoulders. “No idea.”
“But we have an idea.” ‘Ayomuu turned to ‘Vadam and switched to Sangheili. “The human Owl was not attacked during its drop. We saw that much.”
“Which suggests stealth craft are undetectable to those inside the tel,” ‘Vadam said, also speaking in Sangheili. “And since we did not know the humans had arrived until we saw their primary drop—”
“They came in prowlers,” ‘Ayomuu finished.
“Or a stealth cruiser,” ‘Vadam said. “With that many dropships, a larger command ship is more likely.”
Petrov watched the exchange with a clenched jaw and ever-narrowing eyes, her suspicions clearly growing. Yet… she remained entirely too calm and composed, as though their discussion did not really matter to her… as though she were just biding her time until matters shifted in her favor.
‘Vadam faced her and said in English, “You are holding something back. What are you not telling us?”
“That’s a hard question to answer when I don’t know what you aren’t telling me.”
‘Vadam clacked his mandibles in frustration, then turned to study the undulating terrain outside. He didn’t see any stones or wreckage sinking into it, which suggested it probably wasn’t as insubstantial as she had earlier led him to believe. But with the ground rising and falling as it was, trying to cross it on foot would undeniably be slow, difficult, and—with all those boulders tumbling about—dangerous.
He looked back to Petrov. “What will happen if we try to cross the crater before this stops? Is it possible?”
“If you’re willing to pick yourself up enough times, sure. But you know what happens if they use the claw again, right?” Petrov pointed at the twisted wreckage of the nearest Phantom. “You can see that for yourself.”
“I can. But it is a chance I fear we must take.”
“Why? This will all settle down in a while. Then you’ll be able to see if your flotilla is still up there—and if it is, you can tell them to hold any more insertions until you’ve dealt with our friends in the citadel.”
“That is the problem. We cannot wait even a few of your hours. By then, the tel may be empty, and we may all be trapped on N’ba. Together.”
“Because?”
“Because a UNSC stealth Owl survived the claw strike. And it is landing atop the tel as we speak.”
Petrov’s face paled, and she craned her neck back so she could lock gazes with him. “You’re lying.”
“How fearless you are, insulting my honor yet again.”
“We all saw the Owl,” ‘Ayomuu said, quickly enough to prevent Petrov from making a reply that would escalate the exchange to violence—and deprive the landing party of a valuable source of local intelligence. “A small craft with drooped wings, approaching the tel. There has been no second strike, so we can only assume it landed successfully.”
Petrov’s expression fell, and she looked from ‘Ayomuu to ‘Vadam in disbelief… or perhaps it was horror. “You’re being serious.”
“Sangheili always are,” ‘Vadam said. “I am fairly certain the Owl carries a squad of superior troops. You must trust me when I say they will not need an entire day to neutralize a handful of Sangheili castaways. That is why we must hurry.”
“Affirmative. I understand that.” Petrov raised her gaze toward the cave roof again. This time, she held it there. “It might be safer for everyone if you have your warriors wait outside.”
‘Vadam studied the slanting chasm above, searching its darkness for some hint of what Petrov was watching. He saw the same faint glimmer he had noticed before and realized that whatever the light was reflecting off was probably not stone.
“Why would that be safer?” he asked.
“Because we don’t want your warriors panicking when things start bouncing off their helmets. Or getting crushed, if one of the Runners loses its footing.”
‘Vadam looked to Petrov. “What are Runners?”
“You’ll see.”
Petrov inserted two fingers into her mouth, then tipped her head back and emitted a shrill whistle. A series of metallic clunks sounded from the dark chasm above their heads, then four trios of lamps activated high above, spilling long curtains of yellow light down the cavern walls.
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
‘Vadam had ‘Talot and Varo’dai send their warriors to wait outside the cavern, then commanded his own to do the same. By the time he had finished, the humans who had been kneeling deeper in the cave had vanished farther into its depths, and a steady cascade of pebbles and dust was hissing and clattering down from above.
“Well done,” ‘Vadam said to Petrov. Through the dust and debris, he could just make out the shapes of four oval bodies, each silhouetted by three beams of yellow light arrayed along its back and flanks. Each body was hanging between two rows of spindly legs, which were pressed against opposite walls and dancing wildly as they descended toward the cavern wall. “You were going to ambush us.”
“I was thinking about it. Now I’m going to give you a ride.”
CHAPTER 10
The Owl was still a meter off the ground when the aft loading ramp dropped and the two Mongoose ATVs shot from the troop bay, then raced away trailing thick plumes of dust. Vale jumped out next, hooking around to secure the area ahead of the dropship. The summit of the tel was gently rounded, its shoulders blocking her view of the crater floor, but the rim was visible in the distance, a jagged crescent of dark rock rising from a curtain of billowing dust. Beyond it, the brown slopes of a huge mountain climbed into a ceiling of low brown clouds.
Vale dropped prone and activated her helmet comm. She heard only an oscillating whistle—the same sound that had come over the Owl’s system when the pilot tried to contact Hidden Point. It did not resemble any sort of comm blocking she had ever before encountered, but at least the strange emanation was not impacting her Mjolnir armor’s internal systems the way it had interfered with the Owl’s engines. Like most dropships, the Owl was shielded against electromagnetic radiation, and any pulse powerful enough to trigger the reactor overrides should have caused enough damage to knock the craft completely out of the air. Yet it had simply interrupted the electrostatic confinement field, and as soon as that had been restored, the reactors had resumed operation.
The Owl hovered in place long enough to deliver the rest of its passengers—two civilians and two squads of ODSTs—then eased forward and vanished over the far end of the tel. When it reappeared an instant later, it was hugging the mountain slope as it climbed into the low brown clouds. The pilots would find a safe landing site on higher ground, then establish a concealed position from which they could observe events both on the tel and in the surrounding crater. With any luck, they would even be able to restore communications and keep Vale apprised of what they were seeing.
An ODST dropped prone next to Vale. “I have the post,” he said through his helmet voicemitter. “Mama’s ready to sort things out.”
“Affirmative.” Vale heard her voice crack and forced herself to take an instant. She had just lost an entire battalion of ODSTs—eight hundred troopers—and the shock was on the verge of becoming despair. She couldn’t let it. Too many people were depending on her. She had to remain calm and confident. “Thanks.”
Vale rose and retreated a dozen paces to the unloading area, where a stocky female gunnery sergeant stood next to three equipment crates, issuing orders to a pair of male staff sergeants in charge of Tango Team’s two squads. “Mama” Grim Bear was the daughter of Lieutenant Neha Small Bear, who had died during the raid on Naraka early in the war with the Covenant—along with most of the ODSTs of the legendary Black Daggers space assault battalion. A gruff but well-liked leader, Grim Bear commanded the loyalty of her subordinates through her no-nonsense manner and unflappable patience.
When Vale arrived, Grim Bear dismissed the two staff sergeants and turned to report. “Perimeter secure, Spartan Vale. The Mongooses have dropped into a ravine that looks like it descends to the crater floor.”
“Very good.”
Their makeshift plan called for the Mongooses to find a route to the crater floor, then circle the tel and search for likely access points. Meanwhile, the rest of Tango Team would establish a defensive position on the summit. From what Vale could see, the work detail was dispersed in a hundred-meter circle, every second soldier keeping watch while the others used entrenching tools to dig firing positions, tossing clumps of compressed loess from holes that were already shin deep.
Keely Iyuska was standing next to an open equipment crate, already using a terrain reader and mapping tablet to create a three-dimensional rendering of the tel’s summit. Rosa Fuertes was seated nearby on a closed crate, curling her bare toes in the dust and staring across the crater’s hidden depths toward the brown wall of the adjacent mountains. Tears clung to her cheeks, and she was biting her lower lip. From what Vale understood of Netherop, it was not a world anyone could long for… but Fuertes had lived here for the first two decades of her life, and Vale knew from her own feelings about Luyten how powerful the connection to a birth world could be.
She stepped to Fuertes’s side. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually missed this place.”
Fuertes looked up. “Netherop?” She gave an emphatic shake of her head. “No. I hated it then, and I hate it twice as much now.”
But the tears began to flow more freely. Fuertes turned back toward the mountains without saying more, and whatever the dying woman’s feelings, she obviously had no wish to share them with a Spartan. And Vale was in no shape to offer much support. She was still too unsettled by what had happened during the drop.
