CHAPTER SEVEN
0333 hours, 20 October 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Low lunar orbit; en route to lunar surface,
grid 336.1, region 233C.
Leonidas checked his T-PACK's fuel readout again, half hoping the digits it displayed were just a trick of the holographic light. They weren't. He swore, unclipping a length of multipurpose utility cord from Bivins' gear pack. Luckily, the Helljumper hadn't lost all of his equipment when he was sucked out of the Longsword. Just the most critical piece of hardware, under the circumstances.
Leonidas pulled the now-delirious Marine close to his chest and used the cord to secure the man to his armor as best he could in null gravity. When the T-PACK's dwindling station-keeping abilities finally gave out he would have a tough time reorienting Bivins in the weightless environment. The young ODST groaned over the open COM channel, then made a sickening heaving sound.
Leonidas grimaced. The inside of the man's helmet had to smell like a latrine after shore leave. Probably worse.
Bivins was suffering from radiation poisoning, courtesy of the Shiva detonation. The limited med functions of his armor would continue to administer anti-radiation treatment as long as its supplies held out, but that wouldn't keep Bivins going forever. He needed a full-fledged medical center—with all the bells, whistles, and chimes therein.
"Stay with me, Marine" Leonidas said over the open channel. "That's an order." The stern tone seemed to snap Bivins out of his beleaguered state-of-mind.
"Aye…sir. Not feeling too…good…at the moment."
"I know, son. Stay focused. Stay focused on my voice. We'll be groundside in a few minutes."
"Ahh…roger. Do me a favor, Cap?" The Helljumper took a loud, labored breath. "Don't tell…the others…about this spacesickness. I'd never…live it down."
Leonidas' lips twisted in a grim, commiserative smile behind his faceplate. "You got it, kid. Stay with me." He toggled his COM channel over to the frequency linked with Athena. "How's it looking?"
"Not bad. Not great, but it could be worse. I've put us on a more or less straight shot and Luna's gravity has us, but we'll need to execute a burn of whatever the T-PACK has left before we get within a kilometer of the surface. Our point of impact should be a nice, soft blanket of regolith a few centimeters deep."
Leonidas chuckled wryly. "I love how you said 'impact,' there. Very optimistic. Damn near cheerful."
Athena laughed, a welcome sound amidst the utter silence of space. "Can't help it. I guess hanging around with you all this time has rubbed off in more ways than one."
"Guess so," Leonidas said softly. "Should I jettison the T-PACK before impact?"
"No. It would change our attitude relative to the surface. Besides, your armor and shield will crush it flat without a problem, and there won't be anything volatile left inside at that point. Might even absorb some of the shock."
Leonidas frowned as he checked his rangefinder. "We're coming up on two kilometers." He toggled the data link with Bivins' ODST armor, eyeing the young soldier's vitals critically. "Will Bivins survive this?"
The AI hesitated before answering. "I think so. His suit has limited over-pressurization capabilities. They designed them that way to increase survivability after HEV parachute failure. But in his current condition…I don't know. The bigger question is whether that cord you lashed him down with will hold."
Leonidas checked the rangefinder again. One-point-two kilometers. "I've got that covered." He crossed his arms over Bivins' torso, the man's gear pack cushioning the Helljumper against his armor's gray chest plate. Leonidas triggered the locking mechanisms in the MJOLNIR's shoulder, elbow, and wrist joints so he wouldn't crush the Marine when they hit the deck. "Start the retro burn."
"Roger," Athena responded, instantly all business. "Initiating burn in five…four…three…two…one." The T-PACK's thrusters fired, giving Leonidas the abrupt, impossible sensation that there was indeed gravity in space, and that he was lying on his back with an elephant standing on his sternum. The thrusters continued to burn for several pulse-pounding seconds as the MMU exhausted the last of its fuel supply. The secondary attitude-control jets wouldn't be enough to slow them—only one shot to get it right.
As the velocity numbers on his HUD dropped near the theoretical lethal force threshold, the T-PACK sputtered and died. The pressure on his chest vanished and the two men fell silently—almost elegantly—through the cold, lifeless void.
Leonidas reminded himself to breathe, then toggled his helmet's rear display. Luna's monochromatic surface rushed toward them at an alarming rate. Not enough power, he lamented silently. Too much speed.
Athena began counting down the seconds until impact. Leonidas found he had the presence of mind to clench his teeth together so he wouldn't bite off his own tongue. Might lose a few fangs that way, but it was better than bleeding to death in his helmet.
"Three…two…one…"
Damn.
0333 hours, 20 October 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Aboard UNSC Longsword Dagger Two, Sol System,
en route to lunar surface.
"What do you mean he's left the ship?" Maria demanded.
"Bivins got sucked out," Evers explained, sounding a little awed. "The Captain took my T-PACK and—no bullshit, Ma'am—jumped through the breach."
Maria swore viciously—partly at Leonidas, but mostly at herself for not trying to stop him. Somehow she'd known, as soon as he went aft, that he'd try something crazy.
And the sonofabitch was definitely crazy. No doubts there.
But you followed him up here, so what's that make you? Maria silenced the scathing internal critic and opened a COM channel to Leonidas. Static. No response, not even from his armor's automated COM suite. Background radiation from the nuke was probably screwing with communications again.
Or he was KIA, along with Bivins. She tapped Jackson lightly on the shoulder. "What's our status?"
Jackson grunted. "We're in one piece. A broken piece, but I think I can set her down without shredding what's left. VTOL is out, for sure." He flicked a switch and frowned at the console. "We're off course."
Maria grimaced. "By how much?"
"A few kilometers. Not bad, considering the guidance computer is shot to hell." He twitched the throttle control a little, as if emphasizing the point. The Longsword responded sluggishly.
Maria stared at Jackson with something akin to disbelief. "If guidance is out, how are you…"
"Navigating? I'm not. He is." Jackson canted his head in Oboe's direction. Maria stared quizzically at the ONI operative sitting in the copilot's seat. The man turned to fix her with a calm, calculating glance that she hadn't seen on his face before.
Ever.
"You're holding our course?" Maria asked, incredulously.
"Yes," Oboe replied, his voice sounding odd. An octave higher, more penetrating.
"You're not Oboe," Maria said suddenly as realization dawned. "You're the other smart AI Leonidas mentioned."
Oboe eyed her calmly for several moments before responding. "Yes. He is quite astute, for an antique. I am Cerberus. UNSC AI serial number 0453-1."
"Why are you here? Why did they send you?"
"To help you, of course. My orders are to aid in the repelling of the Covenant strike force and secure the dig site at all costs."
Maria's eyes narrowed. "Dig site? Explain."
Oboe—or rather, the intelligence lurking behind Oboe's eyes—hesitated noticeably. "Forerunner ruins…namely, a large artifact of some kind. It was uncovered by lunar prospectors two years ago. ONI began archeological operations immediately and secured the find. Our Section was given direct oversight."
"In other words, Parangosky was given direct oversight."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Cerberus said, a note of deliberate ignorance in his voice.
Maria rolled her eyes. "Right. What else can you tell me about this…artifact?"
"Our scientists have been unable to ascertain its function. Beyond that, we know very little. However, I do possess detailed schematics of the dig site, as well as the mining facility above it."
Maria nodded, thoughtfully. "That should prove useful. Make sure Sergeant Evers and his men have access to them."
"Very well," Cerberus replied genially. His unearthly double-voice was beginning to get to her.
"And keep me informed of your…host's…status. I don't want him flaking out down there."
"Certainly, Petty Officer. Don't worry about Oboe. He's quite…controlled, for a human."
"I'm sure he is," Maria said sarcastically. She turned back to Jackson. "How long before we touch down?"
"Two minutes," the spook replied.
Maria nodded, toggling her connection with Evers. "Are you secure back there, Sergeant?"
The COM crackled harshly. "More or less, Ma'am. We've managed to close up the breach almost entirely with arc welders and some spare plating."
"Plating? From where, Sergeant?"
"Let's just say the place is a little less homey, Ma'am. We'll be fine."
"Copy that," Maria replied with a low chuckle. "Brace yourselves. We're on final approach, and the landing might be a little rough. Echo Lead, out." With that simple statement she had assumed command of the mission. Leonidas—if he had managed to survive—was on his own. She didn't like it, but the Longsword wouldn't hold together long enough to execute search operations, and the Captain must have realized that. He must have had a plan.
Or so she hoped.
"Here we go," Jackson said through gritted teeth. He was flying practically dead-stick, what with the pounding the Longsword's systems had taken at the hands of the nuclear warhead. Barely-dampened EMP effects, in addition to the outright thermal damage on the hull and control surfaces.
The Longsword shuddered as its engines protested the strain. Jackson kicked in retrorockets to lessen their velocity as he brought the craft in low, skimming over the bleak lunar surface. Maria's HUD marked their position relative to the objective. They'd be almost ten klicks off course, assuming Jackson could land the ship in one piece where he'd said he would. She could cross that distance in short order, given the conditions, but could the ODSTs do the same? They were undeniably tough, but the hull breach had to have taken something out of them. It was a miracle they'd only lost one man to explosive decompression.
Maria reached down and grabbed a fresh pair of anchor points on the deck. She and Leonidas had badly torqued the others. Fortunately, this would be the last bumpy ride to endure, either way. The surface of Luna rushed toward them as Jackson kicked in the landing jets and went to full reverse thrust. He brought the Longsword in low over a long stretch of twilit highlands, and Maria realized he was going to attempt to slide the craft in on its belly. A potentially fatal technique, should they scrape over an outcropping of lunar basalt.
Fortunately, the low gravity meant that the Longsword's powerful, albeit wounded, thrusters could do more to slow its mass than on a larger planet like Earth. The craft shuddered as its ventral hull hit the regolith, though not as badly as Maria had expected.
Suddenly Jackson's finger jerked on the trigger and the Longsword's autocannon fired, recoil thrumming through the deck. A small, uncharacteristic thrust of rock in the Longsword's path vanished in a cloud of dark, tumbling shards.
Maria gritted her teeth as the craft began to slow, then relaxed her tense shoulders as it eased to a rumbling halt. She heard Jackson breathe a well-deserved sigh of relief as he released his flight harness.
"Good work," she said with genuine warmth. "We're lucky I didn't have to fly this thing."
Jackson nodded modestly. "It was touch and go for a moment, but she held together." He glanced around at the cockpit interior. "Good ship."
"That she was," Maria agreed. "Get yourself a T-PACK. You too, Oboe…Cerberus, or whatever you call yourself. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and not much time to do it."
"You think Leonidas survived?" Jackson asked softly.
Maria held his questioning stare for a moment, then grinned behind her opaque faceplate and shrugged her massive shoulders. "What chances would you give him?"
"Better than half." The ONI operative laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "Better than most."
Maria nodded. "Good answer."
First cycle, 171 units (Covenant Battle Calendar) /
Inside Forerunner Containment Facility;
location unknown.
Arco 'Karnamee stared at the Oracle in unbridled shock. The ancient machines were not supposed to be hostile. Not one of the legends, nor any of the wild rumors since the discovery of the Sacred Rings, had described such behavior. It was disturbing. Unbelievable. He stepped forward.
"Peace, Holy Oracle. We are servants of the Forerunners, here to seek their wisdom. For the sake of the Great Journey."
The glowing sphere hummed a few bars of some long-forgotten tune to itself, as if contemplating 'Karnamee's entreaties with less than full attention. Gold light flared around the group of Covenant soldiers, accompanied by a strange popping sound. 'Karnamee tensed, expecting an attack of some kind, but nothing happened.
"How odd," the Oracle seemed to say to itself as it pivoted to face him. "That is unlikely, intruder," the machine replied. "You do not match any known biosignatures in my database. Therefore, you must be a highly evolved form of the Flood…though I must admit to puzzlement regarding your survival. No life forms of such significant biomass should have remained intact after the firing of Halo." The Oracle laughed weirdly, its synthetic voice grating on 'Karnamee's nerves.
"We are not Parasites, Holy Oracle," Bracktanus rumbled, fingering his gravity hammer with the first sign of unease 'Karnamee had seen him exhibit. Apparently, the entity's erratic behavior had also caught the Ossoona off-guard. "We seek the Wellspring."
Abject Cipher spun in place, bobbing on an intangible, levitating force that failed to register on 'Karnamee's sensors. "Wellspring? I find no such reference in my database." He floated over their heads, assuming a new vantage point. "Regardless of your objectives and infection status, I cannot allow you to threaten containment."
"Containment…of what?" 'Karnamee said, frustration filling his voice. The Oracle recoiled, as if shocked by the audacity of the question.
"Why, specimen prime, of course! The very reason this facility was constructed within a Slipspace compression envelope. The simple fact that you are unaware of this information increases your threat level. Please await sterilization."
"Not likely," Bracktanus growled, raising his gravity hammer toward the Oracle. A flash of blue light arced from the head of the weapon, and Abject Cipher crashed to the floor. The green glow in its single, oversized 'eye' flickered and died.
"What are you doing?" 'Karnamee demanded.
"Ensuring the success of the mission, Sangheili." The Jiralhanae waved a massive paw, and the air rippled as an entire pack of similarly armored Brutes materialized around them.
'Karnamee growled savagely, drawing his plasma sword as his troops spun to face the other Jiralhanae. That strange glow he had seen—the Brutes must have entered with active camouflage engaged and surrounded them, undetected. How could he have missed it?
"So…you planned treachery all along?" he demanded.
Bracktanus' chuckle was a basso rumble in his huge chest. "Not treachery, Commander 'Karnamee…a simple matter of glory. This 'prime specimen' the Oracle spoke of—obviously in madness—must be the same holy relic we seek. The reward for returning it to the Hierarch will go to Jiralhanae, not Sangheili. And certainly not…Unggoy." Before the last distasteful word left Bracktanus' heavy lips, his Brutes had drawn and fired their spike rifles. The bladed weapons' projectiles burned through the chitinous heads of 'Karnamee's Unggoy commandos, whose powerful fuel rod cannon clattered to the ground in time with their twitching corpses. Methane burned from ruptured respirators, and one of 'Karnamee's Sangheili roared an uncharacteristic cry of mourning. Bracktanus had chosen his first targets well. Fuel rod cannon were the only weapons that could take his armored Brutes down with anything close to ease.
'Karnamee's Sangheili drew weapons so quickly that he barely registered the motion. Bracktanus' Jiralhanae countered by leveling their spikers at them. They were surrounded. Outnumbered. Outgunned.
"I have waited long for this moment, Sangheili," Bracktanus said menacingly. "Often have I dreamed of cutting those arrogant mandibles from your face."
'Karnamee laughed, loud and defiant. "Have you, now? I must confess…I've had a similar desire to use your mite-infested hide for a mud rug." The surrounding Jiralhanae snarled at the insult. "However," 'Karnamee continued, "It seems I'll have to satisfy myself with burning it from your bones. We'll not die easily, Brute."
"Perhaps not," Bracktanus intoned, bringing his gravity hammer to bear. "But you will die. Kill them."
Beams of red light strobed down from above as death descended silently on Forerunner antigravity drives. The powerful energy discharges lanced through the shields of Jiralhanae and Sangheili alike, burning into flesh and viscera. Bones were charred, and every surviving warrior turned outward to face the new threat, weapons blazing. 'Karnamee howled with fury as he watched his men fall, then turned his plasma rifle on the descending machines.
"Excellent!" Abject Cipher exclaimed, rising from the floor. "The Sentinels have arrived." The Oracle zipped higher as 'Karnamee targeted it with accurate blasts, which dissipated harmlessly against a blue-tinged energy field. 'Karnamee cursed the Oracle as he shifted fire back to the attacking Sentinels, reveling as he saw several other Jiralhanae fall under the onslaught.
There was no sign of Bracktanus.
"Active camouflage now!" 'Karnamee yelled over the sound of pure carnage. He triggered his own stealth system, praying that the machines—the Sentinels—would be slow to detect them while cloaked. It was a risk; their shields would be weakened, their infrared signatures increased.
As the handful of surviving Sangheili activated their camouflage systems, the Jiralhanae realized what was happening and quickly followed suit. 'Karnamee tried to track them, but his sensors told him nothing. Without locators, he would be unable to pinpoint the locations of the Jiralhanae soldiers.
But he could track one. Bracktanus' icon was moving away from the area at a rapid pace, taking the left-hand path deeper into the complex.
The Sentinels continued to fire down into the sea of corpses, fusing bodies with the floor. They did not seem to realize that their victims were dead, or didn't care enough to cease their attack. 'Karnamee called for his surviving Sangheili to form up around him. He did not know where Bracktanus was bound, but there was a good chance the other camouflaged Jiralhanae would bar their way, and there were too many for his tattered force to defeat.
The Oracle, Abject Cipher, bobbed high overhead. Suddenly, it flitted off in the direction opposite that which Bracktanus had taken. 'Karnamee grinned savagely. The Oracle might lead them to whatever relic Bracktanus sought, and with the element of surprise on his side he might yet have a chance to cut the Jiralhanae bastard's ugly head from his shoulders.
Silently, swiftly, 'Karnamee loped after the Oracle. His fellow Sangheili—wounded, weary, and angered beyond mere ferocity—fell in on all sides, eager for blood.
Blood…and revenge.
0336 hours, 20 October 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Lunar surface, grid 336.1, region 233C;
En route to CAULDRON dig site.
Damn. Leonidas tasted blood in his mouth. His body ached, despite the nanogens' efforts to counteract physical discomfort as they repaired damage. He turned his head to either side, testing his cervical vertebrae gingerly. No apparent injury, and the biometrics looked okay, with the obvious exception of his nanogen systems' continuing deterioration. His head throbbed menacingly, as if reinforcing that very fact. He toggled over to Bivins' readings.
The man was still alive. Still breathing, though definitely unconscious. Leonidas wasn't sure what had knocked the Helljumper out first—the impact, or the drugs coursing through his bloodstream.
"Probably both," he muttered darkly.
"Glad you're still with me, Captain," Athena's warm voice said in the tight confines of his helmet. "Any broken bones?"
Leonidas groaned as he unlocked the articulation points in his arms. "Not for years." He pushed Bivins carefully to one side, letting the low gravity carry the man gently to the lunar soil, and stood up. The remains of the T-PACK were crushed flat beneath the bulk of his armor, crumpled inside the man-shaped crater his impact had carved out of the regolith. It was a miracle Bivins had survived. Leonidas had been confident he would make it through in one piece, but the ODST's fate had been doubtful—and still would be if Bivins didn't get medical attention soon.
"I still say you're crazy," Athena said, admiringly. "But you do seem to have a knack for surviving near-impossible odds."
Leonidas snorted. "Duly noted. Now scan the COM channels for friendly activity. We need to get Bivins a medevac and hitch a ride to CAULDRON." He checked his TACMAP, swore viciously. "We're damn near eighty miles off-course."
"Best I could do, under the circumstances," the AI replied tartly. Leonidas reached behind his back with a grimace and pulled the smashed remains of his MA5B from the magnetic plate, then pushed it away. He drew his M6D pistol and checked it for damage, holstering the sidearm before the ruined assault rifle hit the dirt.
"I know," he said softly. "You did fine. Better than fine." He frowned, opening the compartment in his thigh. Clear fluid drifted into view, quickly freezing into ice crystals in the sub-zero lunar clime. "Damn," he whispered, delicately picking shards from two hypos out of the compartment. So much for idiot-proof military technology. He inspected the surviving injector with a grim expression.
"Your supplements," Athena murmured in his ear. "Any of it still good?"
Leonidas sighed. "One hypo. It'll have to be enough." He reached down and lifted Bivins' motionless form from the lunar soil. "Any luck with the local chatter?"
"Yes, but I'm getting a lot of interference. Can't make anything out."
"That happens when you detonate a nuke in space, directly overhead," Leonidas said pointedly.
"No kidding," Athena agreed. "Your idea, remember?"
Leonidas chuckled as he started off in the direction of the nearest UNSC outpost, 'near' being a relative term. "Don't remind me. Try to raise someone on the emergency band. With any luck, they'll have patrols out looking for enemy activity." He concentrated on pushing laterally across the terrain, not down. Downward force on the moon turned you into pop-up target on a firing range. Moving forward—pushing across the surface—kept your profile low and small. It was the best way to manage lunar gravity during combat.
With his powerfully augmented legs and the multiplying force of the MJOLNIR armor, Leonidas found he could maintain a fast, steady pace...so long as the terrain remained unbroken. Such luck wouldn't last long on the pockmarked far side.
"I've got something," Athena said suddenly as he dipped into a small crater. "A weak signal, though that could just be the distortion. It appears to be heading roughly perpendicular to our present course."
"You sure it's friendly? I don't want to face off against a Covenant fighter with just my pistol." He waited a moment while she analyzed the signal.
"Definitely UNSC," Athena confirmed. "I've been trying to raise them. Don't know if they're hearing us, but your COM system isn't quite as strong as I'd like."
Leonidas grunted as he dropped into another ancient depression—this one several hundred meters across but fairly shallow. "I'll remember to bring that up at the next quality assurance meeting."
"Funny," Athena retorted. "The signal is coming closer and strengthening. I think—"
"Let me hear it," Leonidas interrupted. He waited as static filled his ears, then resolved into a distinctly human voice badly mangled by the interference.
"...Team, do you…me? This...Pelic...Whiskey Three-Zero-Four. Echo Team…." The transmission washed out in a wave of static, but the last two words were loud and clear. Sweet music to the Spartan's ears.
"Hot damn, they're looking for us."
"Parangosky must've put the word out," Athena murmured. "So much for covert operations."
Leonidas laughed as he switched over to the emergency channel. "Whiskey Three-Zero-Four, this is Echo Leader. I'm reading you two-by-three, over." Signal strength jumped as the contact appeared on his radar, now moving toward them at full speed.
"Copy that, Echo Lead. We are inbound on heading two-two-seven. Activate your beacon on my mark."
"Roger. Damn glad to see you guys. Echo Lead, out." Leonidas crested the far rim of the crater and gently set Bivins on the ground. He checked the Marine's life signs again, then toggled over to the squad channel. "Bivins…can you hear me? They found us. We're gonna get you fixed up." His efforts only elicited a groan from the Helljumper, but some noise was better than none. Leonidas grinned as his acute vision spotted the dropship hurtling over the broken terrain. His scanners painted the craft in friendly green tones, confirming its IFF tag. He triggered his locator beacon, and the Pelican turned its nose more directly toward them.
"What are the odds of that?" Athena muttered. "In the middle of nowhere…"
"Even the middle of nowhere is somewhere during a war," Leonidas stated sagely. "Some of the most important battles are fought 'in the middle of nowhere.'"
"Desperate battles, I take it?" Athena asked sourly.
"Usually."
"With very little chance for survival and no recognition, whatsoever?"
"Something like that," Leonidas replied.
She snorted. "Sounds right up your alley."
Leonidas nodded as he watched the Pelican swoop down and pivot on landing jets, blood tray yawning to greet them.
"Yep."