“I’m repeating it with a warning shot. Can anyone call ‘Telcam?”
“I’m trying to get him,” BB said. “Sorry to take over … Shipmaster Forze, stand down. Talk to your commander. We have this covered.”
“I hope that sounds more bloody urgent in Sangheili.” Mal elbowed Vaz and looked back from the door. Elar and her kill-crazed sisters were at every available window slit, hosing whatever was out there while the unlucky Elites who’d managed to breach the building were a messy heap on the floor. Some of the smaller kids clustered around to look, as if there wasn’t a pitched battle going on. “They’ve got to be running out of men soon.”
Devereaux cut in on the circuit. “Mal, I’m going to push them back the hard way. They’re right at the door, so watch for shrapnel.”
Meters from the door, stone and soil fountained into the air in a stream of explosions like firecrackers detonating. Vaz saw the hinge-heads outside dive for cover. Some made it; some didn’t. Behind him, the snarling and fighting continued but the firing had stopped dead. Naomi thudded down beside him.
“Now,” she said. “Move now. There’s about twenty left outside. We can take them.”
Boom. Something detonated above their heads. BB said something, but Vaz didn’t catch it. Then he saw a Banshee streak east again, skimming the tree line, and Dev started swearing blue murder.
“Bastard hit my tail,” she said. “I’m losing coolant. Hey, asshole, you want to make yourself useful? Go get the goddamn Banshee.”
Vaz heard a painfully high-pitched shriek of an engine as it pulled away. “Dev, can you drop an Anvil out front?”
“If you want to risk bringing down the keep.”
“Just clear a space.”
BB cut in. “Everybody cover,” he said.
An Anvil missile was the last thing Vaz wanted to see detonate on his front doorstep. Phillips. No armor. The thought overrode everything else and he flung himself on the professor just as the blast hit his visor like a blizzard. The debris seemed to rain for ages. He tried to get up and found himself springing to his feet with easy, unexpected energy.
But it was Naomi. She held him up by his webbing. “Get going,” she said, and scooped Phillips up under one arm like a naughty toddler who was now in serious trouble. He wasn’t dead or bleeding, anyway. He was still moving. “Dev, we’re coming out.”
Mal was up and running. Vaz stumbled after him. He couldn’t see where the Banshee or the Phantom had gone, but he could see Tart-Cart waiting on the other side of a crater twice the size of a swimming pool, and Naomi sprinting toward it with Phillips. Then a huge hand clamped down on Vaz’s shoulder and spun him around. Elar, the mouthiest of the hinge-head girls, loomed in his face.
“You destroy our land and then you run away.” She pointed behind her but he couldn’t see anything. He could hear more Elites shouting as they ran, though, male. “My children and my sisters can’t defend themselves against an entire keep.”
It wasn’t Vaz’s problem. He shook her off. “Not my war,” he said. “I’ve got one of my own. Sorry.”
She could have ripped his head from his shoulders. He knew that for sure now. But she didn’t, and he ran for the dropship. Mal pulled him into the crew bay and Devereaux took off so fast that he fell across the seats. The last thing he saw below was an all-too-familiar sea of armored heads thrust forward from massive shoulders as another wave of hinge-heads made their way to the keep.
“I’ve got to fix this leak,” Devereaux said. “BB, let me know when you see a quiet spot where I can set down. Otherwise we’re not going to make it out of orbit.”
Phillips was almost forgotten for the moment. He sat on the bench seat, still clutching his plasma pistol and looking up at Naomi like he was expecting her to put him over her knee and slap his ass. She took the pistol off him.
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly. “My radio went down and BB’s fragment is totally screwed, but you should see some of the stuff I’ve found. Halo data.” He looked past Naomi at the hatch, still open to the air. “They’re going to be slaughtered down there. Can’t we do anything?”
“We’re not here to do peacekeeping. We came to save your arse.” Mal lifted off his helmet and tried to peer out of the hatch. “Where’s that bloody Phantom now?”
“Following us,” said Devereaux.
UNSC INFINITY, SOMEWHERE IN SLIPSPACE
Andrew Del Rio sat at the comms console with an expression of confidence welded seamlessly to his face, but it didn’t fool Parangosky one bit. He clenched his jaw for a moment, then opened the ship’s broadcast system.
“Safeguard in force,” he said. It was the signal to all hands that the exercise was suspended and that they were deploying for real. This was no longer a drill. “Safeguard, safeguard, safeguard.”
He had to be terrified. He had a temporary AI, a skeleton crew, two admirals breathing down his neck, and a new, largely untested ship running on alien technology that didn’t have a manual.
And when Infinity dropped out of slip—if things went to plan—she’d be right in the middle of a civil war, tasked to defend a former enemy.
Now that’s what I call the pucker factor.
“Bracing, isn’t it?” Parangosky walked up behind his seat more slowly than she actually needed to and leaned close enough to his ear for him to feel her breath. “I haven’t been on deck for a shooting war in decades.”
Del Rio was staring into the unbroken blackness ahead. She watched his Adam’s apple slide just a fraction as he swallowed discreetly. When she was thirty and good-looking, it was a tactic that could be misunderstood, but now that she was beyond old and her glitteringly black history of vengeance was known throughout the fleet, it could only be interpreted as menace. Del Rio got the message loud and clear.
“I’m glad that you trust my abilities enough to take this risk,” he said.
She inhaled silently: sandalwood soap, coffee, and mint. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Andrew.”
She straightened up and took a seat to his right just as Hood arrived on the bridge. Lasky was standing at the navigation console with Glassman and Nguyen as they watched the readouts, hands together and forefingers resting on his top lip. He looked like a small boy praying for a bike for Christmas. This was the test. This would prove whether the Forerunner drive enhancement and slipspace plotting would drop them exactly where and when they’d planned to be. Parangosky almost allowed herself a little shiver of excitement. One of the Huragok came onto the bridge and drifted along the rows of instruments like a highly decorative ghost.
“Fifty seconds, sir,” Lasky said. “Engineering stand by … forty … thirty…”
Aine took over the count. Lasky didn’t seem to be expecting that. She was probably making the point that she still had a job to do, civil war or not.
“Twenty-nine…”
“Sorry, Aine.”
“Twenty … ten … five, four, three, two … and we’re back.”
Parangosky didn’t feel the slightest hint of giddiness as the ship dropped back into realspace. One moment Infinity was in one dimension and the next she was in another, as smooth and instant as a blink. The black void filled up with stars and skeins of glowing gas.
But that was just the backdrop. Sanghelios hung in the foreground, a fox-red crescent curled around a handful of brightly lit cities, the first time that Parangosky—or any of the ship’s company, come to that—had seen the enemy homeworld with the naked eye.
“Positional deviation—less than one kilometer, relative to target,” Glassman said. Somebody out of Parangosky’s eye line clapped a couple of times. “Time deviation—under one second. We’re on the nail, sir. Absolutely on it.” Glassman turned around and smiled at Parangosky, either being politic or acknowledging another member of the Halsey Haters Club, and then at Hood. She noted the order of precedence there. “How’s that, ma’am, sir?”
“Worth the wait,” Hood said. “Congratulations. Please pass a sincere B
ravo Zulu to your team.”
Del Rio stood up, looking ten years younger. “Well, goddamn, it works,” he said. “That and the comms. Shame we can’t roll back time and fight this war again.”
“At least we won’t have to fight another one at a disadvantage.” Parangosky caught Lasky’s eye and winked. “And I’m sure the Arbiter will gaze upon our capacity, and learn to wind his damned neck in lest we come back in a less friendly frame of mind.”
The bridge was full of young lieutenants. They looked at her as if she’d revealed God’s middle name. Hood gave her his don’t-corrupt-the-children look.
“I need to talk to Captain Osman, so I’m going to scuttle off to my cabin,” she said, easing herself up with the aid of her cane. Nobody expected ONI to discuss anything in front of Fleet, not even the sports results. “I’ll be with you shortly. And I’ll expect a fresh pot of coffee.”
Even with a buggy, it took longer than she liked to reach the senior officers’ cabins. When the door recognized her and let her in, BB was already in the system and waiting to patch her through to Osman.
“BB, I hope you haven’t been irritating poor Aine again.” She sat down on the sofa and beckoned the screen to move across to her position. “You know how uneasy she gets about things she can’t catalog.”
“I’ve been as good as gold, ma’am. She didn’t even know I was there.”
“Secure voice-coded link, please.”
“Right … Captain Osman for you…”
Osman’s seat was empty when the link activated. Parangosky heard the rustle of fabric and the captain slid into the seat, looking interrupted.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Osman said. “I had to see it for myself. I was looking at Infinity. Six klicks long doesn’t hit home until you see her at relatively close quarters.”
“Impressive, isn’t she?”
“I take it that wasn’t meant to be a stealth approach. Because that was one hell of an entrance.”
“Absolutely accurate reentry. I’ll be cross-decking some goodies for you later.”
“Kilo-Five’s pulled Phillips out, by the way, but they’ve had to land to make repairs.”
“No injuries, I hope.”
“None that they’re admitting to.”
“We’re standing by if they need help.” Parangosky wondered if that might be a job for Adj, but it was a huge risk now to take him into Sangheili territory. “I haven’t had time to look at the sitrep on ‘Telcam, but I take it he’s still making inroads. How many cities involved now?”
“From what we can see, it’s certainly not global. But it’s six major centers, still concentrated on the Vadam region. The Arbiter can’t hold out much longer.”
“Well, Hood’s come to the rescue, but you’re going to have to make sure that he’s not too successful.”
Parangosky had never been too squeamish to thwart other branches of UNSC to achieve ONI’s aims, and she knew damned well that any of her opposite numbers would have done exactly the same to her given half a chance. But ONI had never pulled a trigger to counter them during the Covenant War, even via a third party. Now she’d be doing exactly that, even if she wasn’t going to target Infinity.
“I know, ma’am,” Osman said. “I’ve been wargaming the worst scenario.”
“We can have the best of all worlds. We need to degrade what’s left of Sangheili space capability, but we have to degrade it equally on both sides, which is generally harder in practice than it sounds.”
“Understood. But concealing that from Infinity might be hard.”
“I’ll take care of that. I’m sure BB can muddy the waters somehow. Now, what about Kilo-Five?”
“I don’t want them stranded down there after we’re seen to take sides and kill Sangheili.” Osman looked down at her hands for a moment. Maybe she was checking for that ONI stain. “They’ve gathered some useful data from the Forerunner structures that might be about the remaining Halos. BB’s got the file. The Huragok might be able to unpick it further. We’ve not had a chance to extract Phillips’s data yet because of the problem with BB’s fragment.”
“Are you all right, Captain?”
“About killing Sangheili allies? Yes. Absolutely. They were ready to wipe out every last human in the galaxy. Nothing’s really changed. I know my duty. Humans first.”
“I meant your people on the surface.”
“I can handle that, ma’am.” Osman forced a smile but it wasn’t convincing. “By the way, still no word on Pious Inquisitor.”
“She’s too big to sneak up on us,” Parangosky said. “Now, we need to move fast. I’ve got two Huragok for you, and they’re going to give Stanley a first-class makeover. Be ready to receive us in fifteen minutes.”
“Understood, ma’am. Thank you. It’ll be good to have Adj back.”
“I’ll bet. Parangosky out.”
She leaned back against the upholstery and rehearsed what she’d say if Stanley was caught shooting down one of the Arbiter’s vessels. The corvette could operate in stealth mode, but Infinity had new sensors, and it was hard to keep up with every change the Huragok made. That complicated matters. But once a ship was destroyed, it would never be used against Earth again, and the Sangheili wouldn’t be able to replace ships for many years, if ever.
Asset denial, Terrence. It doesn’t matter how betrayed the Arbiter feels if he doesn’t have the capability to do anything about it. You’ll thank me one day.
Parangosky didn’t feel guilty about any of it. They were only Sangheili, and slaughtering humans for being humans meant that all morality and consideration of Sangheili as individuals were suspended. This was about the survival of her species. It wasn’t a legal debate.
“BB,” she said, “I need to ask a favor of you. A little extra assistance for Osman.”
“Certainly, Admiral. I think I know what’s coming.”
“Could you leave a little of your inimitable self in this ship to counter Aine’s sensors? You’re awfully good at planting false information.”
“I’m a prince amongst framers, ma’am. I could incriminate the Archangel Gabriel for armed robbery if you needed me to.”
“I know. If Stanley shoots down anything, I’d like the sensors to record that the fire came from a Sangheili vessel. Perhaps even Kig-Yar. They’re already in ‘Telcam’s bad books, aren’t they?”
“Already taken care of, Admiral. Aine’s a very good mechanic, but she lacks a certain imagination.”
“Bless you, BB.” Now it was time to be the matriarch, wise and comforting. “Look, you’re going to be all right with this damaged fragment. Don’t fret about it.”
“I won’t. I just feel a little too squeamish at the moment to take a look at it.”
“I can understand that. But you’ll cope with it. Parangosky out.”
She checked her watch, then got up to get a bag of crystallized ginger from her grip. Osman wouldn’t need it when every ship in the fleet had the new drives, but for the time being Parangosky would make sure that she knew somebody cared that slipspace jumps made her nauseous. Morale was built on those things. So was trust and friendship.
She tucked a bottle of cologne in the bag as well, then pressed the comms key.
“Engineering,” she said. “This is Admiral Parangosky. Ask Adj and Leaks Repaired to report to the shuttle, please. And don’t mention it to Dr. Halsey.”
There was one more job to do before she could join them. She needed to talk to Mike Spenser, the man who would know only too well what the Kig-Yar might do with a former Covenant battlecruiser.
THIRTY KILOMETERS NORTH OF ACROLI, SANGHELIOS
“Right, BB,” said Mal, stabbing a finger in the direction of the Phantom waiting on the other side of the field. “I want the chin-gun kept trained on that bloody thing, and I’m going to sit on the door gun until Dev’s done her repairs. Got it?”
“Let me talk to them,” Phillips said. “I can smooth this over.”
He tried to stand up but Vaz pushed
him back down in the seat as kindly as he could. The Elite dropship had landed about a hundred meters away but nobody had climbed out of it yet. Vaz watched it, waiting for the trouble to start.
“Evan, if you get taken again, they could sell you on to any bunch of thugs or nutters.” Vaz didn’t seem to be able to get it across to him that he’d been lucky to survive this far. “You’ve got a value now. You know things. Do I have to spell it out? ONI’s gone in and killed agents to protect information before.”
Phillips didn’t bat an eyelid. “I know the Sangheili better than you do.”
“No, you don’t.” Vaz pulled his helmet off and jutted out his jaw to remind Phillips of his scar. “That’s who they are. You saw New Llanelli, all the glassing—that’s who they are. You can play with that damn arum and quote their poetry all you like, but they exterminate humans. It’s what they do.”
Phillips went to get up again. This time it was Naomi who smacked him down in his seat.
“You need to concentrate on what you came here for,” she said. “Get your data uploaded. What about BB’s fragment?”
“Oh, better leave that,” BB said, unconvincingly casual. “If there’s a problem reintegrating it, I could end up compromised. I need to be back on board Stanley to run diagnostics.”
“Is that my other persona?” a voice asked. “Am I going to be all right now?”
“Sorry. I’d told him to shut up.” Phillips looked down at his jacket as if he’d spilled food on it. “The radio cam was damaged and I tried to fix it, but I think it triggered the security purge. This BB doesn’t remember anything except the nonclassified stuff. I’ve tried to explain who he is so that he’s not too traumatized when he … well, whatever you do when you reintegrate, BB.”
Vaz squatted in the doorway, peering out under the port wing. It was weird to hear two different BBs talking. The one in Phillips’s radio sounded like a stranger. Vaz almost didn’t want to listen because it felt intrusive, like hearing his grandmother going senile. BB could delete it, though, couldn’t he? He could just take out the data segments and ditch the rest. If only organic brains could do that. Mal shoved into the space next to him, switched the door gun to manual, and swung it into position.