“Admiral, I did send a remote through as soon as we’d realized what had happened, but it emerged about two hundred klicks from here. It didn’t leave the sphere. And yes, we’re searching that area, too.”
This wasn’t the first debacle that Parangosky had experienced on her watch and almost certainly wouldn’t be the last, but this one needn’t have happened at all. She still wasn’t sure if Jul ‘Mdama had escaped or not. She had to work on the assumption that he had.
What will he do next? Will he blurt everything out to the Arbiter? ‘Telcam’s not the problem. It’s the damage this will do within UNSC, between me and Hood, and the Arbiter might change his mind about the treaty.
But it won’t stop his civil war, it won’t stop me, and it won’t stop Infinity.
“How are you trying to track him now?” she asked.
“By surveillance drones and by sending remotes through all the active portals. He’s not wearing his explosive harness, so we can’t locate him via that.”
“You allowed him out without it?”
“No, no, he pressured the Huragok into removing it, despite orders. We’ll keep looking, Admiral, but we can’t rule out the possibility that he’s managed to reach another planet.”
Parangosky could do little right then, but Trevelyan was the most important asset that ONI had, perhaps even more than Infinity, which was not solely hers to deploy. The technology—the advances already discovered and the untold treasure still to come—was the key to everything.
And it was currently under the directorship of an idiot.
My fault. I appointed her. Halsey wouldn’t have made that mistake, for all her faults.
Parangosky had a will that could bend steel but even after seventy years in uniform, some things made her doubt herself. One of them was realizing she’d appointed the wrong person to a post. That meant removing them, and the more senior or sensitive the posting in ONI, the less suitable the failure was for release back into the wild. Magnusson wouldn’t be put out to pasture at some university to end her days as an obscure goddess to students who knew no better. She would have to be contained.
I seem to have bad luck with scientists these days. But I won’t let this one turn into another Halsey. Magnusson has to pay for her mistakes. No second chances, no matter how good she is. These civilians are getting out of control. They have to learn that their actions have real consequences.
“Keep looking, and contact me the instant anything develops,” Parangosky said. “And I do mean instant. Expect a visit as soon as I get Infinity to divert from her mission, which should give you some idea of how very, very disappointed I am in you, Irena.”
Parangosky closed the transmission before Magnusson could respond and leaned back in her seat, eyes shut.
“Are you there, BB?”
“Yes, Admiral. Just a little bit of me keeping an eye on things until you’re clear of the Woodentop Navy.”
“How does anyone lose a Sangheili, BB?”
“It takes some doing. So, Magnusson better not make any long-term career plans, then. I’ll brief Osman.”
“I’d better move some listening posts closer to Sanghelios. If Jul’s survived the portal, he’ll head back there or call home sooner or later.”
“Well, I did leave some comms drones from Stanley’s little day trip, but they haven’t picked up anything about Jul yet,” he said. “Look, you really do need an AI of your own, ma’am. Not a dumb one.”
“No, BB, it’s like getting a puppy. When you’re my age, you worry because it’ll probably outlive you and you don’t know if anyone will love and care for it in the same way that you did once you’re gone. Dumb works best for me now.”
“I shall go dig up a bone and chase my tail, then.”
“No offense, BB. I prefer AIs to people most of the time. Come to that, I like puppies better than people, too. Ah well. Better go and ask Terrence if he wouldn’t mind dropping me off at Trevelyan.”
Hood knew better than to ask Parangosky why she needed to divert.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important, Terrence,” she said, playing the weary old woman card that she knew never fooled him anyway. “But the director’s struggling somewhat. A research station the size of a warship is one thing. An entire planet is another. I’ll have to put another management structure in place for these one-off projects, I think.”
“As long as it’s not something I said.” Hood smiled. “Are you sure you’re not bored with this new toy now, Margaret?”
“Not at all, but I’m confident that she can do the job, so I’ll get out of your hair. As Thursday Wars go, that was very promising. I’d say she’s ready for full deployment.”
“Carpeting,” Hood said. “I’ll be happier when everything’s squared away properly.”
“I take it the Arbiter’s grateful for our help.”
“I imagine you know better than I do, given your contacts.”
“Still not invited him for a tour of the ship?”
“I’ll wait until the wardroom silver’s been polished.”
“Well, thank you for the front-row seat, Terrence. You really must visit Trevelyan soon.”
But not too soon. She had some cleaning of her own to do first.
This was her second inspection of Trevelyan, and a painful contrast to the triumphant mood of the last one. She reassured herself it was still a goldmine of technology even if it wasn’t as secure as she’d first thought. They’d have to do something about those portals. If the Huragok couldn’t get them working, identify them, or shut them down, then she at least expected some cooperation on securing them.
Magnusson’s deputy, Hugo Barton, was forty-six, humorless, and a materials physicist. He met Parangosky at the exit from the sphere’s external dock.
“You still okay being bounced around in a Warthog, ma’am?” he asked, jumping out of the driver’s door to help her. He placed her holdall reverently on the rear seat and gave her sidearm a sly glance. “No roads here, of course, but I’ll take it slowly over the bumps.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You think you’ll be needing that pistol?”
The sidearm really did seem to trouble him. “I’m ninety-two. I can’t strangle staff so well these days. Think of it as a disability aid.” The uneven ground was more like a vehicle test range but she refused to wince. Whatever vehicles the Forerunners had used, they probably didn’t rely on utility suspensions that hadn’t changed much in a century. “Where’s Magnusson now?”
“She’s with the Huragok, inspecting the portal chamber.”
“One question, Hugo.” First names. Start as we mean to go on. Get him on side. “Why did anyone think it was a good idea to allow a Sangheili free movement without an escort?”
Barton squirmed. He didn’t dive straight in to dig Magnusson’s grave any deeper, which Parangosky rather admired.
“He seemed more interested in the Forerunners. We were monitoring him at all times, audio too, and all he talked about was where the Forerunners came from and whether they were really gods.”
“So someone assumed that he was just another religious Elite,” she said. “And someone also assumed that the Huragok would follow any order. I have very little patience with assumptions, Hugo, especially from scientists.”
“I try not to make them.”
“And nobody logged all the portal sites first.”
“I think that’s going to take us years.”
“Then he should have been kept in his cell for years.”
“I believe it was done to make him feel more amenable to cooperating with us and revealing information.”
“He wouldn’t have had much to tell us. We should have terminated him when we first acquired him. That’s my fault.”
“Well, at least we tested the GM irukan, so that’s something we’ve got in reserve. What’s going to happen to Irena?”
“How long have you worked for ONI?”
“Twenty years.”
&n
bsp; “Well, then. You can’t have failed to notice that I don’t like avoidable mistakes. And I especially don’t like mistakes that compromise me with Admiral Hood.”
“What’s the worst that can happen if ‘Mdama shows up somewhere in one piece, and talks?”
“I’ll be in a spot with Hood. The Arbiter might kick off the war again, although Sanghelios is pretty fragmented at the moment. And he’ll know we’ve acquired Huragok, although that might actually be another useful deterrent. Even so—I don’t like losing prisoners.” It was time to break the news to him. “By the way, you’re now appointed director. Magnusson’s relieved of duty.”
“Oh.” He didn’t blink. It looked like an effort. “Does she know?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
Barton knew when to shut up, another desirable quality in a facility director. The Warthog drove into the middle of nowhere and pulled up at an isolated structure that looked like a lonely church spire dumped from a great height. Parangosky wondered if her hips were going to cope with whatever was coming next.
“Brace yourself, ma’am,” Barton said. “Just walk forward, and ignore the creepy feeling. It’s just a maintenance portal.”
Parangosky put her weight on her cane. It sank into the ground a little, but then something made her skin crawl and the next step found the cane hitting concrete or stone.
“Uhh … yes, I see what you mean.”
She looked around. The world had dissolved into a precisely built stone chamber with inscribed walls like a mausoleum. She could now hear voices, Magnusson’s and an artificial one that had to be the Huragok interpretation system. Barton didn’t offer explanation or opinion.
“You must show me, Prone,” Magnusson was saying. “I don’t want to damage anything. I just want to know.”
Parangosky rounded the corner and found Magnusson talking to a Huragok who was hovering between her and the wall. It took Parangosky a few moments to work out from Magnusson’s occasional random sidesteps that the creature was blocking her. Then Magnusson turned around.
“Hello, Admiral.” She looked flushed and panicky. “I’m sorry. Prone’s very anxious about the portals.”
“So am I, Irena. Is he getting in your way?”
“Yes. He’s much stronger than he looks.”
“But not strong enough to stop Jul ‘Mdama from forcing him to release the harness.”
Magnusson shrank visibly. “It’s all about the perceived threat to Forerunner technology. He’s already thrown one of the marines out of the way. He’s not violent, just very protective. I’m trying a quieter approach.”
He’s a bag of gas, no matter how clever he is. Shoot him if you have to. I like them, but we can replace him now. “Then why bring him down here at all?”
“We’re totally dependent on them to understand all this, ma’am.”
Right now, all anyone needed to know was whether Jul was alive and starting trouble somewhere, or if he wasn’t. Parangosky wasn’t too fussed about the nature of the wasn’t, although there was no way of telling if he was still roaming the sphere and would find another portal station to escape from. She needed to see a body. She had the feeling that life wasn’t going to be helpful and hand her one just to watch the relief on her face.
“So we can’t re-create the conditions of the escape.”
“No, Admiral.”
Magnusson shot Barton a glance. Parangosky didn’t miss it. She walked up to Prone and looked into his little animal eyes.
“Prone, are you telling us the truth about Kelekos?” Parangosky asked quietly. “Do you really not know where it is?”
It was probably like expecting the coordinates of Sydney or Earth to appear on a flight timetable. Everyone knew what Earth was. Only pilots needed the numbers. “What else did Jul say? What concerned him?”
Prone didn’t move from the wall. He had six eyes, so keeping one on Magnusson was probably no trouble.
“This was a Forerunner, yes?”
“I know. I’m just trying to understand. Can you give us a list of all the Forerunner worlds linked to this shield world?”
“That’s fine.” Parangosky had to think about that for a few seconds. Prone didn’t know where faulty portals emerged at any given time. “Just tell us. We have to find Jul. For his own safety, if nothing else.”
“Prone, have you shut down all the portal stations in here?” It was an obvious question and Parangosky was sure Magnusson had asked it. “So that nobody else can use them for the time being.”
“Let’s make sure everyone’s out and accounted for, and then we can do that.” Parangosky turned and fixed Magnusson with her sentencing stare. No, the idiot hadn’t even had the sense to ask him if he could shut all the doors. “I think we should go now, Irena, and let Prone lock the exits. And get us that damned list.”
There was something rather surreal about Prone. He left, still sticking close behind Magnusson, but otherwise did exactly as he was told. If nothing else, Parangosky had learned something about Huragok—how far they could be trusted to follow orders and the line beyond which they wouldn’t be pushed. It was better to know that before the whole of UNSC became entirely dependent on them. They were a wonderful asset, but it was time to put some effort into understanding their processes so that AIs and technicians could emulate them and to work out how to shut them down in an emergency.
They shared information. That meant no individual Huragok was indispensable.
Not an entirely negative outcome, then. But I won’t get much sleep until we find Jul ‘Mdama or his remains.
Parangosky walked into the main accommodation block with Barton, Magnusson, and Prone, and decided to stay overnight. There was no telling when she’d get back here again, and she needed to cement her understanding with Barton.
“Can I get you something to drink, Admiral?” Barton asked. “We’re pretty limited at the moment, but we can keep you fed and watered.”
“Later.” Parangosky was looking around for a marine or two. She wanted to get this over with, minimum fuss and maximum speed. “Excuse me a moment. I won’t be long.”
She had to walk out into the compound again to find anyone in uniform. A pleasant young marine who reminded her a little of Corporal Beloi was passing with a crate in his arms, but he put it down and snapped to attention when she stepped out in front of him.
“Marine, I need you to detain someone for me, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked puzzled. “Don’t tell me we’ve found the hinge-head.”
“I’m afraid not.” She went back into the block with the marine following her, sidearm drawn. “You probably won’t need that, by the way.”
Magnusson shouldn’t have been surprised, nor Barton, but that was the look on their faces. What did they expect? This was ONI, not some grocery store where underperforming staff were given written warnings to shape up. Parangosky expected the same discipline and common sense from her civilian staff as she did from those in uniform. She indicated Magnusson with one hand.
“Marine, I want you to detain Dr. Magnusson and hold her in solitary until she’s transferred.” Magnusson’s jaw dropped. She literally gaped. Perhaps she still thought the stories were all just that, stories. Now she knew that every myth about Parangosky was true. “Irena Magnusson, you’re relieved of duty, and you’ll be detained under security protocols indefinitely while I carry out an investigation into the escape
of the prisoner. You’ll be held at Midnight Facility until further notice.”
The marine took Magnusson’s arm a little awkwardly. She was a slight woman, and he probably didn’t want to seem heavy-handed. As he led her away, she found her voice, looking back over her shoulder as best she could with that same disbelieving expression that Parangosky had seen too many times.
“But it was a mistake,” she said. “A mistake. After all the years I’ve given ONI? And what am I going to tell my family? Admiral, it was just a stupid mistake.”
“My mistake for giving you a posting beyond your capabilities,” Parangosky said. “And your mistake for thinking your approach to alien psychology trumped time-tested military security.”
Parangosky turned away and faced Barton, fascinated by the mix of emotions written across his face: shock, several layers of fear, and excitement, because even the nice and trustworthy ones found this kind of drama just a little bit thrilling. Irena Magnusson was lucky. Parangosky could easily have shot her, but the woman hadn’t been debriefed properly yet, and there were too many witnesses, however excellent that would have been for Parangosky’s reputation.
“Pour encourager les autres,” Parangosky said, and pointed in the direction of the mess with her cane. “See that word gets around, will you, Hugo? And I’ll have that drink if it’s still on offer. Now let’s talk about you.”
LOCATION: UNKNOWN
Jul fell hard onto a sunlit flagstone floor and gulped in a lungful of air. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t burning in the heart of a star, and he wasn’t back in the chamber beneath the spire.
He was free. He simply didn’t know where he was.
“Uncle! Uncle!” A child started yelling nearby. “Uncle, look! Someone’s in the holy gate!”
Jul got to his feet. He understood the language: it was Sangheili, although he didn’t recognize the accent at all. It took him a few moments to orient himself and work out that he was standing in the middle of a small settlement. It looked strange to him at first because it bore little resemblance to any keeps he’d seen before, even in Ontom, but this was his culture. These were his people.