Outcasts, page 31
“But it is the time we have,” ‘Vadam said. “If we cannot win in an hour, we will certainly die on Netherop anyway. Better to strive for quick victory against the Banished than to accept inevitable defeat against Cortana.”
“Fair enough,” Vale said. “It may not be much of a chance, but it’s our best one. I’ll take it.”
“As will I.” ‘Vadam turned toward ‘Ra’ashai. “So long as the blademaster is willing to make a tactical withdrawal.”
“Tactical retreats are acceptable,” ‘Ra’ashai said.
“Good,” Vale said. “Then we have a plan.”
She turned to brief the non-Sangheili speakers, but ‘Ra’ashai stopped her.
“I am only concerned about one thing.” He looked across the trenches toward the army of drop pods. “Why has the enemy not attacked already? Had they overrun your humans before I arrived, they would have saved themselves much trouble.”
“True,” Vale said. “But they’re not here just to kill us. They want the Divine Hand.”
“And they do not know what it looks like,” ‘Vadam said. “Or where it is. The last thing they need is to force us underground. They might never find it.”
“Ah,” ‘Ra’ashai said. “Then they are waiting for us to deploy it, so they can kill us all at once.”
“Right. They’re playing right into our hands.” Vale hesitated, then glanced up. “There’s only one small problem with that.”
“Their fleet,” ‘Vadam said. “Even if we win on the ground, and do it in an hour, they still control space above. We will remain trapped on N’ba.”
They all fell silent, leaving the non–Sangheili speakers to watch them with ever-more-alarmed expressions.
Finally, ‘Ra’ashai clacked his mandibles. “It matters not. We will start by winning the fight on the ground, then we will win the next one, and the next one, and eventually whoever survives will give up and leave.”
“Well, that’s one hope,” Vale said.
“And at the moment, it is the only hope we need,” ‘Vadam said. “If we try to plan the entire war right now, we will end up losing the battle. Inform Commander Petrov and Sergeant Grim Bear of our thoughts, and I will arrange something to worry our enemies a little more.”
As Vale and the others turned to brief Petrov and Grim Bear, ‘Vadam stepped over the tunnel mouth and met Varo’dai in the exit. She was still carrying the vacuum-energy condenser in both hands, with two of her rangers between her and ‘Ayomuu. The rest of her Varo rangers followed behind the Oath Warden, and ‘Vadam’s own warriors brought up the rear of the line.
He pointed at the energy condenser. “Leave that with your most trusted ranger. You will join me and ‘Ra’ashai, but leave the Oath Warden under guard with your warriors and mine. Have them crowd the mouth of the tunnel, to make it appear there is a large force waiting to spill out.”
Varo’dai thrust the shimmering bead into the arms of the ranger behind her. “Guard that with your life. If the Oath Warden so much as looks at it, call for his death.”
“My death?” ‘Ayomuu said from inside the tunnel. “That hardly seems—”
“Arbiter, forgive the interruption,” Vale called from behind him. “But you should see this!”
‘Vadam turned to see a huge Jiralhanae marching along the summit toward their excavations, flanked by only two companions. They were still over a hundred paces away, but that was close enough to see that the Jiralhanae in the center held no weapons and wore grayish armor with no helmet and—notably—an ODST chest plate over his stomach. A long dark beard hung down his torso, and atop his shoulders sat a large boulder of a head.
“It’s Atriox himself,” said Vale, no doubt watching the Jiralhanae through the augmented optics of her Mjolnir helmet.
“What does he think he’s doing?” Grim Bear asked. “We could drop him right now.”
“Please do not,” ‘Vadam said in English. “It is dishonorable to kill an enemy seeking to parley.”
Vale turned to look at ‘Vadam. “They want to parley? Why?”
“Perhaps they have heard there is a Spartan here,” ‘Vadam said. “It would give me pause.”
“Sure it would,” Vale said. “But thanks.”
A step behind and to Atriox’s left side walked an aged Sangheili with no armor at all, while a fully armored Jiralhanae carrying a gravity hammer walked two steps behind on his right. An adviser and a bodyguard, as ritual dictated.
“Whatever Atriox wants,” ‘Vadam continued in English, “he wants it badly.”
“Because he’s using the old Sangheili parley formation?” Vale asked.
“Yes. I am impressed he would even know it, much less deign to use it.” ‘Vadam pointed to Vale. “You will serve as my bodyguard, Spartan. For my adviser…”
He turned to assess his options, trying to decide whether to ask Varo’dai or ‘Ra’ashai to remove their armor, or to simply have Iyuska accompany him.
But Vale had other plans. “No. I don’t trust him. Let’s make him come to us. All the way.”
“And let him see our fortifications?” Grim Bear asked, alarmed.
“To make sure he sees them,” Vale replied. “It’ll make him wonder what he can’t see. We’ll use his cunning against him.”
“It is a risk.” ‘Vadam was glad to see Vale thinking along the same tactical lines he was… namely, deceptive. “But one worth taking.”
“I don’t know about that,” Petrov said. “We’re surrendering a known advantage for a hypothetical one. That usually doesn’t work out so well.”
“Usually, I would agree,” ‘Vadam said. “But as severely as we are outnumbered, it will take the Banished no longer to overrun trenches that they have not seen than ones that they have.”
“That’s part of it,” Vale said.
‘Vadam noted the way she paused before continuing and realized she was about to suggest a plan she believed he would not like. “What is the other part? Given the current situation, an outrageous idea may be the best one.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Vale hesitated again. “I’m beginning to think we should let Atriox have the Divine Hand.”
They were speaking English, so it was only Grim Bear and Petrov who simultaneously exclaimed, “What?!”—while Iyuska, who had come up to observe the discussion from the edges, cried, “Out of the question!”
Varo’dai stepped closer to ‘Vadam and spoke in Sangheili. “Whatever the Spartan said, it must be reckless.”
“It is,” ‘Vadam assured her.
“Good,” Varo’dai said. “Right now, we need reckless.”
“Not this kind of reckless,” ‘Vadam murmured. He continued more loudly in English, “No. I will not do that.”
“Because you would rather die with honor than live without it?”
“You know me well, Spartan Vale.”
“I do. Which is how I also know you prefer subtle victory over noble defeat.”
“Now what is she saying?” Varo’dai asked.
“She wants to be sly,” Vadam said.
“Good,” Varo’dai said. “I like sly. Especially now.”
‘Vadam lifted his mandibles to the right, then spoke to Vale in English. “I am listening.”
“Thank you.” Vale glanced toward Atriox, who was still eighty paces away. “ ‘Ra’ashai’s plan may work on the ground, but we still have to get past the Banished.”
“Clearly,” ‘Vadam said. They had no intelligence on the size or composition of the Banished flotilla, but he knew there was one. Atriox would not have sacrificed a drekar to screen a drop pod insertion unless he had a way to extract his forces after they recovered the Divine Hand—and he certainly would not have come himself.
“And we must do it before Cortana’s reinforcements arrive in less than three of your hours.”
“Which means Atriox isn’t even our worst problem,” Vale said. “Only the most pressing.”
“I concede the point. Continue.”
Vale pointed at the sample bags in Iyuska’s hands. “You’ve seen the side effects of using that thing, even in the short term. It wiped out half your landing party.”
“Along with all our Phantoms. And we were a good distance away.”
“Then there’s what it did to ancient Netherop.” Vale gestured toward the barren, brown mountains beyond the crater. “Why wouldn’t we want the Banished to do that to themselves?”
“Because it might not be to themselves,” Petrov said. “I don’t know much about these Banished, but if they fired it from someone else’s territory—”
“Actually, they won’t be able to,” Vale interrupted.
Petrov scowled. “Why not?”
Vale turned to Iyuska. “Would you care to explain?”
“Not really.”
‘Vadam checked on Atriox and saw that his parley formation had closed to within sixty paces. He shifted his gaze to Vale, then made the finger circle that he had seen humans use to suggest faster progress.
Vale nodded. “Keely, it’s either this, or the Banished kill us all. How many breakthroughs will you make if you’re dead?”
Iyuska exhaled loudly. “You’re such a linear thinker.”
“But am I wrong?”
“No.” Iyuska turned to Petrov. “Spartan Vale is correct, more or less. The Divine Hand would be difficult to set up in hostile territory. It could be done, but the area would probably need to be under Banished control for years to result in Netherop’s level of collateral damage.”
‘Vadam had not expected this. “Explain.”
“First, you need a focusing chamber,” Iyuska said. “And that won’t be easy to build. It has to be perfectly spherical.”
“The Banished can be amazingly resourceful,” ‘Vadam said. “If they preassemble a version, it could be moved and used wherever they like.”
“True, but even then it would take time to calibrate to the required precision.” Iyuska raised the sample bags she was holding. “This is what will take longer.”
“The nanomachines?” Petrov asked. “I thought those were self-replicating.”
“They are,” Iyuska said. “But they need the right raw material. They also need time to process it.”
“How much time?” ‘Vadam asked.
“It depends on how powerful the Banished want the weapon to be,” Iyuska said. “This tel has been here a hundred thousand years.”
“The Banished will not wait that long,” ‘Vadam said. “I doubt they will wait even a cycle.”
“Then their device may not be as powerful as this one,” Iyuska said. “It would probably cause less collateral damage, and I doubt it would be as durable.”
“May… probably… doubt,” ‘Vadam said. “Are you guessing or inferring?”
“A bit of both.” Iyuska’s voice grew heated. “And I’m doing damn well at it, considering how little time I’ve had to study the site.”
“What I need to know is whether the Banished will suffer harm when they use the device,” said ‘Vadam.
“Undoubtedly. How much depends on—”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Grim Bear stepped into the middle of the circle and tipped her helmet toward the trench line. “But we have maybe twenty seconds to wrap up our strategy session.”
‘Vadam looked in the direction she had indicated and saw ten smoke plumes emerging from the low brown clouds, no doubt Banished dropships inserting to support—and retrieve—their warriors on the tel. On the ground, Atriox and his companions had closed to within thirty paces, and the warmaster’s orange-red eyes were fixed on the small group gathered around ‘Vadam.
“Agreed.” He turned back to Iyuska. “You have done well under trying circumstances, Studymaster. I hope you will serve as my adviser during the parley.”
Iyuska’s gaze slid toward Atriox. “Um, what?”
“She’d be happy to.” Vale turned her faceplate toward the scholar. “Isn’t that right, Keely?”
“I guess. If you say so.”
“Good.” Vale turned back to ‘Vadam. “You still want me as your bodyguard, I assume?”
It was more of a command than a query, but ‘Vadam took no issue with it. “Of course. We will execute your plan.”
“Good, but we can’t simply surrender the device,” Vale said. “We need to make Atriox believe—”
“Yes,” ‘Vadam said. “I have a strategy for that.”
He motioned for Vale to follow, then explained to Varo’dai and Petrov what he wanted them to organize and had Iyuska leave her sample bags with Sergeant Grim Bear. Iyuska and Vale took their places beside ‘Vadam, then they went forward and met Atriox and his two companions across a sandy trench.
Upon closer inspection, the warmaster’s bodyguard was a red-bearded Jiralhanae in black-and-red power armor, with a simple vaned headdress rising from the brow of his helmet. The adviser was a slope-shouldered Sangheili with rheumy eyes and a heavily wrinkled brow.
When Iyuska saw the Sangheili, she said, “Oh, wow. Eto ‘Saljhoo. I should have known you were a looter’s stooge when we sucked the marrow.”
“You should have,” ‘Saljhoo answered in English, “but you had no wish to. You wanted our funds.”
“I wanted Sangheili funds. From an enthusiast.”
“But you took Banished funds.” Atriox spoke through a translation disk affixed to his armor. “Then broke your word.”
Iyuska grew pale. “I… look, had I known… I would never…”
The remainder of her reply seemed to lodge in her throat, and ‘Vadam worried she might collapse out of fear. No matter. She had already confirmed what he needed to know: the elder Sangheili, ‘Saljhoo, was Atriox’s expert.
“Studymaster Iyuska’s agreement is with me now,” ‘Vadam said. “And it includes my protection.”
Atriox’s gaze shifted to ‘Vadam. “Then my problem is with you, Arbiter. You have something that I paid for.”
“You did not pay me,” ‘Vadam said. “So whatever we found, it belongs to us.”
Atriox gave a grating chuckle. “You have been spending too much time with the humans, Arbiter. We Jiralhanae have a different view of keeping what we find. We keep what we take.” Atriox waved a hand around the tel. “And as you can see, we have the strength to take.”
“The Sangheili have a different view of strength,” ‘Vadam said. “An individual view. Let us meet one-on-one and see if you are strong enough to take it from me.”
“A tempting offer. But our time is too limited. The Apparition will soon know of our presence on this world, if she does not know of it already. So I will make you this offer… and only once. Surrender the trikala, and I will let you live.”
“And what precisely is this trikala?”
Atriox merely pointed into the sky. “You must know. You tried to stop me with it.”
“Ah, yes. We call it something else. But we have no interest in an offer that leaves us stuck on N’ba while you wander the galaxy with the… trikala.”
“Understandable. But you will not be here for long. The Apparition is certain to collect your company of misfits and have you taken somewhere for interrogation… provided you do not resist, of course.”
“I must say that your offer grows less interesting each time you speak. Let us end this parley now and get on with the fight, so the winner will have time to leave before the Apparition arrives.”
Atriox’s eyes flared red. “Your kind consideration is noted, Arbiter. Do not expect it to buy my mercy.”
“My consideration is not for you, Warmaster. The Banished will not be the ones—”
‘Vadam stopped speaking when the first sample bag sailed past him and landed at Atriox’s feet. By the time ‘Vadam turned to look toward the source, the second bag was flying across the trench. The Fuertes woman was stepping away from Sergeant Grim Bear, who lay on the ground doing a credible job of looking surprised.
“What have you done?!” ‘Vadam demanded. Fuertes’s cue had been Let us end this parley now, but she had moved surprisingly fast, given the time it had taken to knock Grim Bear down and take the bags. “How dare you!”
“You may want to die here, but I don’t.” Fuertes backed away, looking just defiant and frightened enough that even ‘Vadam believed her. “Not for a couple of sackfuls of dust.”
‘Vadam pointed. “Seize her!”
As Varo’dai moved to obey, ‘Vadam turned back toward Atriox, who was already peering into the first bag. He scowled and dipped a finger inside, then extracted a puff of gray powder.
“It is dust.” A low rumble rose in Atriox’s throat, and he glared across the trench at ‘Vadam. “I am not so easily fooled, Arbiter.”
Atriox cocked his arm to throw the bag at ‘Vadam, but his Sangheili adviser, ‘Saljhoo, thrust out a hand and grabbed hold.
“A moment, Warmaster. It might be wise to let me have a look at it first.”
Atriox glared at ‘Saljhoo as though debating whether to smash the Sangheili’s skull or surrender the bag… and finally did the latter.
‘Saljhoo opened the bag wide and peered inside, muttering to himself. After a moment, he set the bag between his feet and withdrew a large jeweler’s lens from his tabard pocket. He dipped a finger into the dust, then held the lens to his eye and examined it.
“You may wish to reconsider any plans you were considering for the Arbiter’s execution. This is not dust. Most certainly not.”
“It is not the trikala either,” Atriox said.
“No.” ‘Saljhoo returned the lens to his pocket. “I suspect it is the seeds of the trikala.”
“Seeds?” Atriox growled. “We are not here so I can plant a garden.”
“Not botanical seeds. This is something… more. Much more.”
Atriox snatched the second sample bag off the ground. “We have the trikala, then? You are certain?”
‘Saljhoo gave him a nervous look. “Not certain. But that is what the evidence suggests. Under the circumstances, I cannot do better than that.”
Atriox inclined his head, suggesting displeasure.
“As I have explained, Warmaster, I am not a protogenic xenoarchaeologist. However, the engineering of these seeds appears much older than the age of the Forerunners, and the technology is quite alien.”
