Outcasts, page 22
When no responses came, the Sangheili flotilla had climbed into the high orbit it now occupied. Having already dropped off the Hammer of Fate’s sensor screens after launching its Pelican wing, the UNSC stealth cruiser had simply fallen silent and continued cloaking itself. But neither side had made any aggressive moves toward the other. They both seemed to be taking pains to stay clear of each other… perhaps because they had both seen the flare and knew what had caused it.
Atriox motioned Eto ‘Saljhoo to his side. “The flare event… is it possible that was the trikala?”
‘Saljhoo used a thumb and forefinger to stroke the underside of his mandibles, then finally said, “Anything is possible. But who would have activated it? The Sangheili Phantoms have been on Neska’s surface barely five units. Even were it possible to find and assess the trikala in such a short time, the Arbiter would never be foolish enough to use it on Neska. It would be too likely to draw the notice of the Apparition’s harriers.”
“You have the brain of a namth,” Tovarus said, stepping to Atriox’s side. “The Arbiter does not know there are harriers in this system. Our decoys have drawn them away.”
“Of course, you are right.” ‘Saljhoo studied Neska’s brown-cloaked image for a moment, his gaze focused on the green dot that the threat analysts estimated to be the origination point of the flare event, and worked his mandibles as he made a few silent calculations. Then his eyes bulged. “Well, that would be bad… very bad. If the Arbiter did use the trikala, I mean.”
“If?” Tovarus echoed. “Did he activate it or not?”
“That is impossible to know with Neska’s cloud cover. Once our orbit has carried us over the origination point of the flare event, we might be able to gather some residual readings that suggest what class of phenomenon—”
“The Arbiter did not fire the trikala,” Atriox said. “If he had, the humans and the Sangheili would be doing battle over it right now.”
“Then it is a great relief they are not,” ‘Saljhoo said. “Because if we have located the origination point correctly, and I have calculated Neska’s rotation accurately, the flare event was facing out-system when it occurred. I do not know whether the propagation cone would have been broad enough for the harriers to see, but if the trikala had been fired—”
“I did not say the trikala had not been fired,” Atriox interrupted. “I said the Arbiter was not the one who did so.”
“But who else would have?” ‘Saljhoo asked. “Even had a human advance unit somehow seized the trikala so quickly, it would not have attacked a human insertion force.”
“That is so,” Atriox said. “Which leaves us with the only other possibility—Neska’s current inhabitants.”
“But Neska is uninhabited.” ‘Saljhoo dropped his chins in thought, then looked at Atriox through the top of his eyes. “Unless you are suggesting the trikala was fired by the ghosts of the inhabitants? That it was automated?”
Atriox gave a rumble of amusement. “I am flattered you think me so poetic… but, no.” He looked back to the planet’s brown-swaddled image. “Eleven hundred cycles ago, there was a small surface battle on Neska.”
“And you think survivors were left behind?” ‘Saljhoo asked. “Survivors who are somehow still alive?”
“When a battle ends,” Tovarus said, “there are usually survivors. And some are often left behind.”
“I understand that.” ‘Saljhoo’s tone was irritated. “But you cannot believe they would still be alive—not after eleven hundred cycles in such a place.”
“You do not tell me what to believe, Studymaster,” Atriox said. “There are battle survivors on Neska, they are Covenant warriors, and they control the trikala.”
That is what made the most sense. Someone had used the trikala against the human insertion, yet allowed a trio of Sangheili Phantoms to land unharmed. If he tried hard, Atriox could imagine reasons for someone other than a Covenant survivor to do such a thing. ‘Saljhoo’s “automated attack” theory was a possibility, or even a desperate human castaway hoping to capture a Phantom. But in Atriox’s experience, such convoluted reasoning rarely proved to be sound. Almost always, the simplest explanation was the true one.
After a moment, ‘Saljhoo’s posture grew a little more hunched, and he looked away. “If you state something as truth, Warmaster, I would never presume to say it is not.”
“Your wisdom is your greatest asset, Studymaster.” Atriox turned back to the holograph and pointed at the green dot that marked the flare event’s estimated origination point. “But what I need is your expertise. Tell me why our listeners are intercepting no comm traffic from the surface of the planet. Is everyone down there dead? Or is something blocking their signals?”
“That is impossible to know,” ‘Saljhoo replied. When Atriox fixed him with a pointed glare, the studymaster added, “But… that will certainly change once this moon’s orbit carries us over the origination point. We can extrapolate from there, once we gather more readings. We already know there was a spontaneous emission of photons. If the flare event was accompanied by quantum energy shifts and oscillation forces, then we know it was powered by vacuum energy—and that would indicate the trikala had been activated.”
“Why can we not detect these shifts and forces now?”
“Because they are on the quantum scale. Very small and very short-lived. The sensor operators will not even be looking for the energy shifts and oscillation forces themselves, only residual signs that they occurred. My apologies, Warmaster, but even a Banished crew cannot make such delicate observations without being directly over the target area.”
Atriox looked toward the estimated location of the flare event. The green dot marking the spot was about halfway between the horizon and the Hammer of Fate’s hiding place on Neska’s second moon, so that meant another four units before they were in position.
“That is too long to wait for an answer,” Atriox said. “Tell me now what you believe. Why are the listeners intercepting no surface traffic?”
“What happens if I am wrong?”
“You would not like it.”
“Then ask your next question, Warmaster. Perhaps I can do better than mere speculation.”
“As you wish. How are we going to get past the trikala to land on the surface and take it for ourselves?”
“May I assume you are correct about who used it against the Pelican wing? That it was Covenant survivors?”
“There is no need to assume,” Atriox said. “I am correct.”
“Then I can tell you exactly how we are going to get past the trikala. We are not.”
“What do you mean, we are not?”
“How many Pelicans did the UNSC attempt to insert on Neska, Warmaster?”
“Forty,” Atriox replied.
“We have fewer craft in our flotilla.”
“But our vessels are better armored and shielded than Pelicans.”
“That might matter if we understood what the trikala was.”
“Which you do not,” Atriox said.
“Not yet. What I do understand is that the trikala has destroyed at least one Forerunner Guardian. I also know that any Guardian’s armor and shields are undoubtedly superior to our own.”
Atriox grunted his displeasure, but pushed no further. If he believed that Covenant survivors controlled the trikala—and he did—then he would be a fool to argue against the studymaster’s conclusion. Reaching Neska would mean fighting past the Arbiter’s flotilla, a battle that would certainly alert the Covenant on the surface to him being an enemy. Then, even if the UNSC stealth cruiser did not attack—or if Atriox somehow prevailed against it—he would face the prospect of inserting against a foe that had already destroyed an entire wing of Pelicans. And if the weapon the survivors had used was indeed the trikala, ‘Saljhoo’s prediction would prove accurate. The Banished would lose their entire insertion force.
Atriox had just about resigned himself to a long wait when a Kig-Yar gravitics reader straightened his posture, then summoned his Jiralhanae overseer. The reader was on the far side of the tactical holograph, so it was difficult to see the source of his concern through Neska’s cloudy brown image. But the overseer gnashed his tusks and motioned the Kig-Yar to plot the data.
An instant later, the symbol of an oval appeared on the out-system edge of the tactical holograph. Bisected on the diagonal by a jagged line, it was a theza, the Jiralhanae glyph of uncertainty, which the Banished used to denote a gravitic anomaly. A vector tail appeared behind it, turning the theza into a blunt-tipped arrow on an interception course for the Sangheili flotilla.
Before Atriox could ask for an estimate of mass and velocity, a second theza appeared on the edge of the holograph, trailing a little behind the first, but with a curving vector tail.
“More prowlers?” ‘Saljhoo asked. “That cannot be good.”
“Why do you assume they are from the UNSC?” Tovarus asked. He turned toward the listening station and called, “Any word from our two decoys?”
“I would have reported that at once,” the grizzled listener replied. “There has been nothing.”
Tovarus cast a hopeful glance toward Atriox.
“We dare not trust their silence.” Atriox’s gaze remained fixed on the two theza vectors, watching them stretch toward the Sangheili flotilla. “Have navigation estimate the light time from Neska to the decoy locations.”
As Tovarus relayed the order, ‘Saljhoo asked, “Then you think they are the harriers?”
“I fear they are the harriers.” Atriox continued to scrutinize the tactical holograph, searching for any sign that the Sangheili had noticed the approaching anomalies. “You are the one who noted that the flash event was pointed out-system.”
“True,” ‘Saljhoo replied. “But one can hope.”
“If one is a brainless dengkra,” Tovarus said, turning back to them. “Navigation estimates two and a half units light time to the first decoy, three units to the second. Both karves were well within the flash event’s propagation cone.”
“Oh,” ‘Saljhoo said. “That is unfortunate.”
The studymaster did not need to explain his assumptions. It would have taken two and a half units for the light from the flash event to reach the closest karve, then another two and a half units for a light-speed transmission to return to the Hammer of Fate. So, even had a karve transmitted a warning that the harrier was returning to the planet, it would not yet have arrived.
Which was why both decoy karves had orders to make a slipspace jump back into the Neska planetary system the instant they realized the harriers were no longer following them. That neither vessel had returned by now left only one inescapable conclusion.
“Both karves were destroyed,” Atriox said. “And now the harriers have returned to protect the trikala.”
“Yes,” Tovarus said. “But that is not necessarily a problem for us.”
Atriox’s first instinct was to chastise his second-in-command for being a brainless dengkra himself. When they saw the Sangheili flotilla, the harriers would warn the Apparition, and she would send an overwhelming body of reinforcements. If he did not capture the trikala before they arrived, he never would. He was as certain of that as his own name.
Then Atriox looked again at the theza vectors and how they were bending to intercept the Sangheili flotilla, and he saw what Tovarus was suggesting.
“The harriers will provide the diversion we need,” Atriox announced. “Once they have engaged, we will slip past our foes and seize the trikala for ourselves.”
“A masterful plan, Warmaster.” Tovarus was careful to avoid claiming the credit for his own idea, as that could have been seen as a challenge to Atriox’s position. “I am sure you have thought of a way to slip past the human stealth cruiser as well.”
“The stealth cruiser will not be a concern for us,” ‘Saljhoo said. “At least not on the way in.”
“I would feel better if the Warmaster confirmed that,” Tovarus said.
“The studymaster is correct. If we were able to find the stealth cruiser with our technology, surely the harriers will find it too. They have the technology of the Forerunners.”
“A sound conclusion, of course,” ‘Saljhoo said. “But what I meant was that the harriers have already found the stealth cruiser. The second one is preparing to launch its attack now.”
Atriox scowled at the theza vectors. The first one was undoubtedly on an interception course to the Sangheili flotilla. It did not seem likely that a single vessel of its size—even Forerunner—would be able to destroy so many ships on its own, but it would certainly serve as the distraction the Banished needed to slip past and insert on Neska.
The intention of the second harrier was not as obvious. Its theza vector was now actually bending away from an interception course with the Sangheili flotilla, and rising above the orbital plane of Neska’s first moon, where Atriox still believed the human stealth cruiser to be hiding.
“Tovarus, have the threat analysts project the course of that second harrier.”
As Tovarus turned to relay the command, ‘Saljhoo clacked his mandibles.
“Forgive me, Warmaster.” The studymaster was clearly struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. “But the course projection will tell you nothing.”
“Explain.”
‘Saljhoo pointed at the curving theza vector. “The second harrier is not going to attack. It is preparing to observe the battle. Once the outcome grows clear, it will enter slipspace and leave the system.”
“To warn the Apparition of our presence.” Atriox grunted in frustration, then turned to Tovarus. “Once the harrier leaves the system, how long before the Apparition’s forces arrive?”
“It will be fast, Warmaster,” Tovarus said. “Harriers use Forerunner slipspace technology, so it will require only a unit to reach a communications node. Even the Apparition will need to marshal her fleet, and that will take time. But we know she has been watching Neska, so she is likely prepared to act swiftly. Allow two units for the fleet to get under way.”
“And because the Apparition will send Forerunner vessels, only a unit to arrive.” Atriox turned to glare at ‘Saljhoo. “Four units. After skulking here for cycles, that is all the time left to us.”
“The time may not matter,” ‘Saljhoo said. “We have a more pressing problem.”
Atriox exhaled. “Tell me.”
“When we entered the system, you were informed that these were Acolyte-class harriers.”
“I have not forgotten,” Atriox growled. “You said the Acolyte class are one of the smallest of harriers.”
“I also told you I did not know how many autonomous weapon-ships they carried. Or what kind.”
Atriox snapped his tusks. “And that has changed?”
“In a sense.”
As ‘Saljhoo spoke, the course projection for the second harrier appeared on the tactical holograph. It showed the theza vector continuing to rise above the first moon’s orbital plane, bending out-system perhaps twenty megaunits from the moon itself. It was an ideal distance for launching long-range missiles… or autonomous weapon-ships.
“How many?” Atriox asked.
“That depends on what kind of weapon-ships they are. I would be reluctant to offer a firm number—we simply lack enough experience with Acolyte-class harriers—but it could be in the thousands. Though, of course, the smaller the weapon-ship, the less effective—”
“It matters not,” Atriox said. “They will keep the stealth cruiser occupied while we make our insertion, just as you have said. The trikala will soon be ours. We have four units to make it so.”
‘Saljhoo dropped his gaze. “It is certainly my hope that we will succeed…”
“But you still have fears?” Atriox asked. “You are wondering how we are going to land our own force, with the trikala in the hands of our enemies?”
“The thought has been on my mind, Warmaster.”
“On mine as well,” Tovarus said. “We can use the harriers to distract our enemies in orbit, but our enemies on the ground will be watching and waiting for us.”
“And that is what I am counting on,” Atriox said. “We are going to let them believe they have disrupted our insertion, just as they disrupted that of the humans.”
“You are going to sacrifice our drop fleet?” Tovarus asked.
“No. I am going to sacrifice the Hammer of Fate.”
CHAPTER 16
Perhaps this was what it meant to be dead, to lie trapped in the gray dust, uncertain whether one was breathing or suffocating, being crushed or cushioned, suspended or sinking. Rosa Fuertes knew only the pearl ambience that surrounded her, that cradled her in the softness of its feathery palm.
She remembered: her Sangheili abductors carrying her deep into the tel, perhaps a thousand meters or more, their leader asking questions of her in his raspy English—which she would gladly have answered but could not—questions about how the Covenant War could be over, the final fate of the Prophets and the nature of the Forerunners, the true purpose of the Halo Array. She remembered also her abductors growing weary of carrying her and forcing her to walk, shoving and dragging her because her prion disease left her too weak and too unsteady to keep pace, then sending her ahead on her own, the passage opening ahead of her just as it did them… for a time. She remembered coming to the end of the passage and collapsing in dizziness and fatigue, happy for her pain and struggle to be over. And then a Sangheili in the armor of the Arbiter’s forces appearing just as the ceiling rumbled and fell and buried them both.
Or did she remember anything?
Was any of that real? All Rosa knew now was the dizzy queasiness of floating in dust, the pearl ambience that swaddled her and held her inside like a womb. That was real. Everything else… was an open question. She could not even be sure she still existed.
