That’s the damnedest thing. The way the weather seems to go on and off here. It isn’t following any sort of weather pattern that I’ve ever encountered, even on the Halo installations. Could it be that whatever is causing the mammoth to transport us to it is also actually controlling the weather somehow?
He wished he could shut his brain off about the strange things that were happening here, but he couldn’t help it. His thoughts kept carrying him deeper and deeper into the nature of things they’d encountered on the Ark. What they meant, not only now, but as it pertained to the Forerunners. It was a daunting possibility. Was this an AI causing these things, or was this the results of the Ark’s damaged systems? Or was it both? Some things seemed absurdly counterintuitive, and it made him stop for a moment and consider what he was doing. He was attempting to second-guess the greatest known minds in the history of the galaxy, and who was he to do so?
There were no further violent incidents following Kodiak’s departure. As a matter of fact, the journey had become extremely scenic. They had had to cross a huge body of water that separated them from the citadel, but there had been an ice bridge that the mammoth was able to cross with no difficulty. There was a large ridge ahead of them with distinct Forerunner pylons atop it, but the ice bridge brought them through a cavernous passageway carved right into the rock.
“Look familiar?” Luther asked, turning to N’tho.
“Very,” he responded, his eyes fixed on the majestic Forerunner structures high above them as they began to move into the passage. “Those pylons each activated a portion of a shield that guarded the citadel from damage. When the High Prophet of Truth came here, he barricaded himself beyond the barrier and attempted to activate the Array from the citadel. It did not fare well for him, however.”
“They say that the Arbiter killed him,” Luther remarked.
“Yes, once we deactivated the barrier, both humans and Elites infiltrated the citadel side by side. We stopped the Covenant, and Halo,” N’tho said, deep in thought. “Together.”
“Well, then,” Luther smiled, “This must be just like old times for you.”
When they passed deeper into the cave passageway, they came upon a huge alloy gate, easily six meters tall. It was shut against them, and Luther was concerned that the mammoth had, for some reason, taken them to a dead end. But then he heard something like the sound of massive gears shifting, and slowly the doors began to slide apart. The mammoth never slowed, as if the beast knew that the great gate would automatically open itself to them. It prompted Luther to wonder just how intelligent the creature was. Was it knowingly doing any of this, or was its will entirely subdued by whatever force had brought it to him? As a scientist, Luther seriously disliked having so many questions and no answers for any of them.
The mammoth emerged through the gate and climbed into the basin that held the citadel. Luther let out a low whistle. The citadel itself was resplendent, even with the damage it had sustained from the Halo two years ago. None of the footage captured from the Dawn’s sensors did it justice. The scope of the building was gargantuan, sitting against the backdrop of the Ark’s foundry, hundreds of kilometers wide, an immense gaseous redness of space and a silent moon brooding at its center.
Finally, they reached the citadel. Luther could hardly believe that it was true.
The citadel was a series of angular shapes that climbed up from the basin floor at what appeared to be a forty-five-degree angle before shooting out horizontally over the foundry lip. It had many struts and cowling-like structures that comprised its complex shape, with a single tower at its peak that climbed high into the air. Overall, its appearance was that of a single, massive buttress, holding an elongated corridor-like structure well over the edge of the foundry. Ivory and gray materials made up its composition, though there was light charring and damage across the structure and its exterior.
The basin was impressive as well, at least in terms of size, though clearly less remarkable in shape and design. There were traces of snow and ice, but it was mostly composed of gravel and dun ash, blankets of stone and slush. There were the remains of what appeared to be both human and Covenant vehicles scattered all over the place, including the empty husks of two huge Scarab platforms, extremely large and powerful Covenant occupation vehicles. Luther could see that they were covered with scorch marks. Clearly there had been a massive firefight here.
N’tho glanced behind him. “It was exciting to be here,” he said, as if reading Luther’s mind. “One of the most remarkable experiences of my life.”
“I’m certain it was.” Luther was looking ahead, trying to discern the mammoth’s path. The citadel was dead ahead of them, and the mammoth seemed to be winding its way through the debris toward the very front of the structure. He wasn’t sure how they were going to access it, though. Their path was bringing them to some manner of ramp that led up toward the front entrance, but then it came to an end. There was a sizeable gap, perhaps hundreds of meters, between the edge of the ramp and the citadel itself. “Guessing that’s some sort of moat system . . . though without a moat. How did you manage to get inside? Over this gap, I mean?”
“There was an energy bridge between that ramp and the citadel itself,” said N’tho. “But it appears to be no longer functional. Perhaps the Huragok can activate it. . . .”
And then, as if in response to N’tho’s words, there was the sound of something slowly whining to life. Seconds later, a shimmering bridge of energy projected from the ramp to the citadel, covering the gap between the two. The mammoth’s riders exchanged looks.
“Well, that was awfully easy,” said Luther.
“Too easy,” said Zon. “It is as if they want us to come in.”
“So first they try to kill us,” said Kola, “and then they bring us to this place and issue an invitation. Does this make sense to any of you?”
“Not particularly,” said Luther. “But my earlier theory may still hold weight. The Ark’s monitor—perhaps its control is limited only to some animals.”
“Or perhaps it is a trap,” Kola said.
“That’s a possibility,” Luther said. “Certainly.”
“So are you suggesting we do not venture any further?” said N’tho.
“Far from it. I just suggest that we be ready for anything.”
“We are Sangheili, human,” said N’tho. “You should already know that we are always prepared for such things.”
The mammoth was standing at the bottom of the ramp. It did not seem inclined to go farther. Instead it knelt down. Luther and the Sangheili disembarked, quickly dropping to the ground. The creature slowly stood up, and then turned and walked back the way they had traveled.
“Yes, this might very well be a trap,” N’tho remarked, turning around to face the citadel. “The last time we needed the Oracle to activate the bridge for us. It was not done simply for our convenience. Whatever awaits us there in the citadel wants us to enter, and I have great difficulty believing that it is for our mutual benefit.”
“I am not loving this situation, either,” said Luther. “But I’m not really sure we have any choice.”
“Then by my blood,” said N’tho, “let us proceed.”
Slowly they walked across the light bridge. Luther felt his muscles knot up with tension, as he somewhat expected the bridge to suddenly vanish beneath their feet when they were halfway across, sending them plummeting to certain death. Fortunately, it remained intact as they crossed.
Voices shouted at them.
The group stopped at the midway point and turned to look at the slope of the mountain circling the basin, to the far left of the citadel’s position. To Luther’s complete shock, several familiar forms were approaching.
“It’s them!” he shouted. “They made it!”
Henry Lamb, Spartans Kodiak and Holt, and Usze ‘Taham were moving quickly down the near side of the ridge. Luther waved to them in acknowledgment, and then they all hastened back to the ramp, remaining there until t
he rest of the group caught up.
They quickly brought each other up to speed. Luther was, remarkably, a bit jealous that the others had been attacked by some kind of a carnivorous tree, which, despite all they had experienced, was the most exotic creature they’d encountered. That was certainly something that he would have loved to see firsthand. But based on Henry’s animated description of the encounter, it sounded as if he was quite lucky to have avoided it.
“So we’re all in agreement that we’re most likely walking into a trap?” said Kodiak.
“Yes,” said N’tho. “But there are no alternatives to this. The controls for Halo lie within the citadel. It is our only hope at stopping the activation process.”
“Do you think it wants the Huragok?” Lamb said. “Whatever it is that has brought us here, that is?”
Luther took a heavy cold breath, his mind deep in thought: “That does make sense.”
“What do you mean?” said Kola.
“Well,” Luther said, “let’s say hypothetically that the Ark’s AI is the cause of all the strange things we’ve encountered—the Retrievers, the animals, Vale’s disappearance, the visual illusions, and even those defensive machines. There’s definitely been an indication that this thing, whatever it is, has been harboring some level of hostility toward us. Well, if that’s the case, our friend here—Drifts Randomly—may be the target. The Huragok’s abilities may present a threat to it; it’s easily more of a threat than anyone else in this group because of what it is capable of. So the simplest way to deal with a threat is to bring it to you . . . and then dispose of it.” He turned to the Huragok. “Perhaps you should stay here with one of the Elites. Wait for us.”
> it replied, its voice calm and entirely unaffected by the foreboding dialogue.
Before anyone could respond, the Huragok spun around and floated off toward the citadel.
“I imagine that is our answer,” said N’tho, and they fell into step behind it.
They walked across the light bridge, and moments later entered the main foyer of the citadel.
It was a long, glimmering alloyed hallway, diamond shaped, with walls slanting on either side and coming to a raised point above them. There wasn’t much lighting—just barely enough to make out the general surroundings. Most of the illumination was coming from the far end, from what appeared to be some sort of elevator. Luther nodded toward it and said, “Is that where we go?”
“It is,” said N’tho. “It rides an energy beam up and down, like other Forerunner sites . . . and it appears to still be functional.”
They reached the elevator pad—a tight fit, considering their number, but they managed, and slowly the lift descended.
“I recall much that transpired here,” said N’tho.
“Good memories?” asked Luther.
N’tho didn’t respond. He didn’t really have to.
The elevator eventually glided to a halt and opened up onto the main hallway of the citadel.
Luther’s breath caught in his throat. It was vast and long, an elevated platform or bridge with various small rooms at specific intervals. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. Along the main hall was a set of holograms representing the Halo installations. The circles hovered before them, projected on individual stands that ran down the length of the chamber and ordered in such a way that each one encircled the bridge they followed from one end of the hall to the other. Luther noticed that one of the Halo rings—the fourth one—was red with various damage readouts, and he surmised that it depicted the Alpha Halo that had been destroyed by the Master Chief: Installation 04, the first Halo discovered by humans.
“Can you believe this?” he whispered.
“Yes, but last time it wasn’t empty. We had to fight our way across,” N’tho said indifferently. “The control console we are seeking is at the far end.”
They made their way through the elongated Forerunner chamber, and at one point, Luther stumbled slightly because something had pushed him from behind. He realized that it was Spartan Kodiak and further understood that, as a scientist, he’d become so entranced with his surroundings that he’d slowed down almost to a halt. “Sorry,” he muttered. The Spartan didn’t bother to respond.
As they traveled down the hallway and through each of the rooms that divided the long bridge, Luther soaked in his surroundings. This room held holographic representations and data readouts of every one of the Halo installations—he could hardly imagine the trove of information that someone like himself might indulge in if they were allowed an opportunity to explore and research this place. It was unprecedented. He could spend his whole life here. Hell, he could spend a dozen lives here and only scratch the surface.
At the far end, there was another energy bridge that led out to a round platform: the primary control console for the communications array. There was also a long, broken viewing window that looked out onto the Ark’s mining moon, set in the mist like a stoic orb the size of a world. Luther thought he’d ask N’tho about the damage to the window, but at that moment, the Elite turned and gestured toward the console. “Human, you must take this great honor upon yourself.”
Luther felt as if his mind was going to shut down as he stepped onto the energy bridge. His legs were shaking as he walked; he was having difficulty processing the implications of the moment.
This is it. This is where the Forerunners put the wheels in motion a hundred thousand years ago. The beings that I’ve been obsessed with my entire life trod these halls, stood in this place. It’s like a devout believer being invited to step into the Garden of Eden.
He reached the platform and studied it. The floor was generally flat, but it appeared as though the console had risen up in a series of circles, much like elegant stairs, placing emphasis on the main purpose of this room. And really, the main purpose of this entire facility. Despite the advanced technology on the console itself, Luther found it incredibly easy to comprehend once he reached it. Upon its face was a series of glowing, pulsing lights that he understood to represent all of the Halo installations, wherever they were in the galaxy. And in the middle there was a holographic key that would halt the process, according to the cartouches and the angular schema.
This is it, he thought. What we came here to do.
Without any further hesitation, Luther reached his arm up and pressed down upon the holo-key.
A second later, the lights on the console panel went out.
“I did it,” he whispered, and then shouted: “I did it!”
A ragged “Yeah!” came from Henry Lamb as Luther turned to face them. The group had taken position behind the console. Grinning, he strode down the circles to the floor, and they shifted in response, flattening once more.
And then the machines converged upon them all.
Two dozen mechanical constructs—evidently the same ones that Lamb and the others had encountered on their trip—armed with energy staves and what appeared to be rifles of some kind, appeared out of nowhere, and Luther didn’t think they were any sort of Forerunner welcome wagon.
“Those you’re friends?” Kodiak growled to Holt, reaching for his energy sword.
“Those are them,” Holt said, prying his rifle off his back.
Luther turned to Drifts Randomly as Zon and Kola flanked the Huragok.
> Drifts said, in a neutral apathetic Sangheili.
“What did he say?” Kodiak asked.
“They’re armigers, apparently,” Luther said, taking a second to process it. He turned back toward Drifts: “Do you mean armor bearers? Like for knights?”
Seemingly content with his previous answer, Drifts made no response.
“I think he’s saying that these Forerunner machines are defensive drones that supported Forerunner warriors. Now they guard this place.”
“If you say so, human,” said N’tho. He activated his plasma sword.
For a long moment, the Forerunner armigers simply stood there.
Then they char
ged.
The Spartans and Sangheili, with a roar of fury, ran to meet them.
Two armigers came at Kodiak from either side, swinging their energy staves. Determined to conserve his ammo, Kodiak had already activated his Covenant plasma blade and now closed in battle. He blocked right, left, right again, doing everything he could to prevent the staves from striking him. He was only partly successful, as the constructs landed blow after blow, but his Mjolnir armor was able to withstand it. The armigers, by contrast, were not quite as durable. Kodiak slammed the blade forward, lunging under one of the armiger’s strokes, and sliced the thing in half. He whirled and swung his blade at the one behind him, cutting off the arm that was wielding the stave.
Something exploded behind Kodiak, knocking him forward. A blast from one of the armiger’s rifles had struck him in the back. He lost his grip on the plasma sword and it skidded across the floor.
A second later, an armiger had picked it up. Kodiak was still on the floor, trying to shake off the impact of the blast that had taken him down. When he looked up, he saw the armiger swinging the blade straight at his head.
This is how I die? With my own weapon—?
And the armiger was suddenly airborne, yanked off the floor, as a similar blade emerged from the front of its chest. N’tho was behind it, lifting the armiger into the air. It hung there for a moment, Kodiak’s blade dropping out of its hand, and then N’tho slung the machine away casually.
N’tho shoved the hilt of Kodiak’s blade with his foot. It slid across the floor and Kodiak retrieved it.
He saved my life. Damn him, thought Kodiak.
Luther’s rifle was empty and there were no magazines left. Since he had no further offensive capabilities, he did the only thing he could think of: stay in tight behind someone who could handle himself. In this case, that was Usze ‘Taham, who was firing intently upon the armigers with his carbine, blowing them back as they continued their efforts to advance. He saw that Henry Lamb had adopted a similar tactic, keeping close in behind Kola. “The elevator!” Luther was shouting. “Get us back to the elevator!”