Halo: The Cole Protocol (31 page)

CHAPTER

SIXTY-EIGHT

METISETTE ORBIT, 23 LIBRAE

Bonifacio drifted in orbit around Metisette. The batteries on his pod were close to dead, and condensation dripped off the portholes.

He’d seen the destruction of the Redoubt from orbit, the asteroids raining down into the atmosphere.

Since then things had been quiet.

The air was getting thick inside the pod, and it was hard to breathe. Occasionally he heard Kig-Yar voices on the radio and sometimes fast Unggoy chatter, but none of them would respond to his calls for help.

Not even calls back to the Rubble had been answered. He’d pleaded and begged, even offered rewards, but gotten only static.

He sat in place hugging his chest, when a loud pipping sound caught his attention.

Bonifacio moved over and looked at the scans.

A bulbous-headed ship had appeared in orbit nearby, expertly dropping out of Slipspace in a way no human ship could.

Another flashed into space behind it, then another, and another. An entire Covenant fleet materialized in front of Bonifacio.

This would be a new group of Covenant. Ones who hadn’t shut him out, Bonifacio thought. He moved to the radio. He’d surrender. Yes, he’d be a tool of the Covenant, a slave to them, but he’d live.

Yes, he’d live.

He grabbed the microphone and hailed the large cruiser moving nearby, and kept calling it until he saw it change course.

Bonifacio’s heart skipped.

He’d done it. He’d survived. He was going to get picked up. He smiled as he watched the cruiser pick up speed, and then frowned.

It was still picking up speed. It was moving so close that he could see it from the windows of his pod, growing larger every second.

A ball of energy gathered underneath the ship. Bonifacio screamed and put his hand up against the slimy, wet porthole as if to ward off the plasma that lashed out and struck his tiny pod.

The massive Covenant cruiser plowed through the vaporized remains as it adjusted its orbit.

CHAPTER

SIXTY-NINE

INFINITE SACRIFICE,
METISETTE ORBIT, 23 LIBRAE

Thel got to his knees and bowed to the pair of Hierarchs before him on the bridge of the
Infinite Sacrifice.
An honor guard of five Sangheili guards arrayed themselves around their floating chairs.

“Rise,” the Prophet of Truth said. “You ordered the Unggoy to storm the human vehicle after the Kig-Yar Reth’s death?”

“Yes, Hierarch,” Thel said. “It was a chance to get the location of their homeworld. But we know now the Unggoy and any Kig-Yar that were with them have failed.”

“How is that?” the Prophet of Regret asked.

“Their air would have run out by now.”

The heavy crowns of the Hierarchs bobbed as they considered that. “Indeed,” Truth said. “We are left only with Kig-Yar who imagined they were helping humans, at Reth’s orders. Potential traitors, all of them. And these Unggoy as well, breeding outside the law. Traveling without permits.”

Regret shook its head. “A mess.”

“A mess that revealed much,” Truth hissed.

For a moment, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then Regret nodded at Truth. “We will destroy all the traitors.”

Thel felt his neck tighten. He’d failed to appreciate the situation, and now he would pay the ultimate price for his mistakes. The Hierarchs would have his head.

Vadam would suffer. His lineage would be suspect.

The floor beneath his feet felt as if it wavered, and then Thel stiffened. Zhar was moving forward.

The Sangheili warrior had drawn the bar of his energy sword, but not yet unleashed it.

“
Zhar
,” Thel hissed, horrified. Zhar seemed to be struggling with himself.

“So you will kill us too, Shipmaster?” Zhar cried out. “Like animals? After all we served. How can I suffer such a dishonor? My line’s dishonor?”

The honor guard drew their energy pikes, the ends shimmering with contained blue plasma.

Zhar took another hesitant step forward, and Thel pulled out his sword and turned it on. “Zhar?”

His old friend looked back at him. “I have already drawn,” he said. “I will not stand and let them dishonor me.”

“I have drawn as well,” Thel said sadly.

Zhar leapt forward, but Thel jumped as well, slamming into his side and spearing Zhar through the throat with his sword. It sizzled and spat Sangheili blood.

Thel threw Zhar against a wall, then decapitated him with a swift swipe.

He stared at the mess of blood and Zhar’s body, then turned back to the Hierarchs, setting his sword down on the ground away from him.

What else could he have done? Thel wondered. Zhar had forced him into it. To step toward the Hierarchs with a sword in hand was madness.

Regret looked shaken, but composed himself and piloted his chair out of the large bridge. “What madness Sangheili honor can be,” he muttered as he left. “They should be careful, lest they lose their way.”

But Truth looked at Thel with analytical eyes. “Tell me your name, noble warrior.”

“Thel ‘Vadamee,” Thel said.

Truth moved closer, the honor guard moving with him. “You live. Say nothing of what happened here.”

“Yes, Hierarch,” Thel said.

“Report to the shipmaster—he will find you lodging until we return to
High Charity.”
Truth also left the bridge.

Thel waited until they were well clear, then stood. He didn’t look at Zhar’s body as he walked to the large, Sangheili shipmaster to get his instructions.

This mission was over, and Thel was grateful. He wanted a ship to command that was part of a fleet, not off on its own. But leading a mission, away from the Prophets where his decisions could or could not risk their wrath…

Thel ‘Vadamee never wanted to be in that position again.

CHAPTER

SEVENTY

UNSC FRIGATE
READY OR NOT,
OUTER 18 SCORPII

Commander Arthur Resnick of the frigate
Ready or Not
was enjoying a routine patrol at the edge of the system of 18 Scorpii. The slow pace gave him time to catch up on paperwork, and he was scrolling through a datapad full of reports when his navigation officer suddenly stiffened.

“Sir?”

Resnick glanced at the screen. “What the hell is that?”

The report showed something… huge. It was bearing down on the system in Slipspace. The scan had been forwarded to them via an early warning sensor net and station farther out-system.

“That’s gotta be Covenant,” he said. “None of us have anything
that
heavy.” The mass was off the charts.

“It’s six miles long,” the navigation officer said. She sounded shocked. “Whatever it is.”

“Send the warning.” The planet of Falaknuma would need to gear up as best it could. There wasn’t much in the way of UNSC Navy here. Falaknuma mainly served as a base for a section of the ONI Prowler Corps, and a handful of frigates.

They were going to get overwhelmed pretty quickly, if past Covenant encounters were anything to judge by.

Resnick cleared his datapad. “Get the MAC ready. Bring the reactor up to full operational power—”

“Sir.” Comms stood up. “It’s broadcasting a UNSC friend-or-foe tag. The
Midsummer Night
.”

Resnick looked over at Navigation. Lt. Onika frowned. “There’s another signature in there. About the right size to be a frigate.”

“Could be a trap.”

“Standby, but wait for my order to fire,” Resnick said. “We stand off and watch this. For a moment.”

Then the massive object dropped into real space and they finally got a read on it.

A six-mile-long asteroid, trailing debris, one engine misfiring and a UNSC frigate trailing it.

“Comms, open a channel,” Resnick ordered.

On the screen a man with Navy-short salt-and-pepper hair appeared.
“Ready or Not,
this is Lieutenant Keyes, of the
Midsummer Night.
We’re all friendly. Do not fire.” Keyes grinned. “The asteroid is full of refugees from behind Covenant lines. They’re all civilians from what was once Madrigal. About a million of them. Their air is getting stale, the asteroid has been holed from being shot at, and the engines are critical. We need to get these civilians off the moment they get into a stable orbit.”

The bridge crew of the
Ready or Not
stared at the large asteroid moving by them.

Someone from the back of the bridge uttered what was on everyone’s mind:

“Holy shit.”

Resnick snapped around. “Alright, let’s get to it. Comms, we need to bump this up the chain of command and to the Colonial Administration Authority. Let’s get cracking—there are people’s lives at stake.”

The bridge exploded into motion as the rescue effort began.

PART V

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-ONE

HIGH CHARITY

“We lost much,” the Prophet of Regret said.

Truth looked at his fellow Hierarch. “No. We purged Kig-Yar and Unggoy who might have caused trouble, due to their inclinations to work with humans. And thanks to the modified weapons, we have found two more worlds of theirs to attack.”

“Neither of which will be their homeworld,” Regret grumbled.

“It is progress,” Truth said.

From their throne room, high up in
High Charity,
they looked out over their subjects. Streams of other San’Shyuum wobbled around the city in the air in large rings, barges of Unggoy flew from point to point, and pilgrims from all throughout the Covenant worlds thronged the streets.

“We need to be more careful about the Sangheili,” Regret said. “Honor and nobility might one day get in the way of orders.”

Truth glided away from the city scene and into the heart of the chamber, where golden streams of light flashed through a gentle drug-smoke haze. “Maybe,” he said. “But some of them seem fiercely loyal, and very useful. I value loyalty.”

Regret grunted. “I value results.”

“Then it is good we work together,” Truth said. “For the good of the Covenant.”

Regret picked up one of the bowls and inhaled. “For the good of the Covenant, yes. In all we do.”

The two hierarchs had resolved the moment of bad blood that had grown between them. Their plans were back in synchronization.

For now, Regret thought. For now.

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-TWO

VADAM KEEP, YERMO, SANGHELION

“The Fleet of Particular Justice?” Lak ‘Vadamee asked. The old Sangheili walked along the keep’s walls with Thel. Thel had a new shipmaster’s cloak that tugged and kicked at him in the cold mountain wind. “I have never heard of it.”

“It is a new reorganization of the fleets. Against the Sangheili Councilors’ desires. They have given me a cruiser to command within this fleet.”

“A strange new age, Kaidon.”

Thel looked out over Vadam valley, out toward the distant sea. “Stranger than I can dare speak. Even when I add my lines to the family saga.”

“But our nobility rises, does it not?” Lak asked.

“For now,” Thel replied. “But I have seen humans as strong and as fast as any of ours. And I have seen what happens to those who disappoint the Prophets.”

“We are Vadam,” Lak said. “We shall persevere.”

Thel started to say something, then paused. Lak had trained Thel when he’d been among the keep’s young. He’d bruised and kicked Thel, toughened him to be the warrior he was today. He’d taught him the histories, made him learn sagas, and taught him to reason. If he couldn’t trust Lak to be a close advisor, then Thel had no friends and was alone in this universe. “You must never repeat this, but I saw the Hierarchs argue with each other, and it cost the lives of many souls,” Thel finally said. “Is it heresy that I cannot shake the worry that gives me?”

“There is heresy, and then there is heresy,” Lak said softly.

Thel rested his hands on the stone in front of him. “What do you mean by that riddle, elder Lak?”

“Long ago our ancestors believed without a doubt that the Forerunner artifacts we found scattered on our world were objects of veneration. We could study and worship them, and imagine transcendence. But that was it. To destroy, even take them apart, was heresy.

“Then came the Prophets, who wanted the artifacts to study. They wanted to violate them and explore them. So we fought to prevent this heresy, and both Prophets and Sangheili almost perished in the fight. Now we let the Prophets do what they will and study these artifacts. Might made heresy change. But what is the true truth? Who knows?” Lak shrugged.

“That is close to heretical,” Thel said, looking over at his old master.

“I am an old Sangheili,” Lak said. “I have been hit on the head too many times, and am easily confused. What do I know of theology?”

Thel grumbled. “We shall persevere then, elder, heresies or not, and strive to follow the path. I might even rise above just shipmaster.”

“That is the attitude to take, Kaidon. Enjoy your moments of triumph now. The future will come soon enough; there is no reason to dwell too much on it. Then you will end up an old creature who has spent far too much time worrying.”

Thel followed Lak down the stairs into the warmth, where the elders of the Vadam waited to congratulate him on his success and promotion.

There was living to do, Thel thought happily. And the warmth of a productive and virile keep to enjoy.