Halo: Ghosts of Onyx (17 page)

She tumbled, crashed into the bulkhead between the bridge and the engine room, punching a dent into the bulkhead.

The engine screamed with ultrasonics and it shook the ship

so violently, Kelly's vision blurred. Crackles radiated from the spine of the hull, microfracture fatigue, and the popping and tearing came from the port wing.

The engines ceased and the crushing deceleration eased.

Kelly peeled herself off the wall, and saw that Dr. Halsey was still safely strapped in her seat. Blood trickled from the elderly woman's nose, and it bubbled, which was good; it meant the Doctor still breathed.

"We are presently seven kilometers over the planet's surface," the AI said. "Stable trajectory for a controlled landing. Main engines… inoperable. Auxiliary engine operable, but incapable of escape velocity."

"Understood," Kelly said. They were stuck… wherever they were. "Pursuit vessel status?"

"None within visual or radar range."

Kelly didn't think they'd seen the last of them.

She went to the Doctor and checked her pulse. It was strong and steady. She was tougher than she looked.

Kelly spotted two duffel bags secured under the captain's chair: one was filled with a variety of medical supplies, and the other held four MA5Bs and sixteen clips.

She smiled. There
were
weapons here after all. She grabbed one of the MA5Bs, slid the clip home, and hefted its reassuring weight.

The
Beatrice
gently banked and the hull complained.

The viewscreen showed rolling hills, jungle, and sinuous rivers. To the north were white-rock canyons and mesas, as well as columns of smoke and wavering outlines of dust.

Kelly relaxed, not into complacency, but rather because the situation was familiar. In space, she could do nothing but sit and watch—an impossible situation for any Spartan. Now, however, she could analyze the tactical, plan, act, fight, and possibly win.

"Pipe through that distress signal," she told the AI.

"Apologies," it said. "All antennae have been vaporized. I can,

however, give you the approximate location of the last transmission."

"That'll do. Get us there."

The ship banked to starboard.

"Ahead seventeen kilometers is the source of the signal," the AI said.

The corner of the viewscreen magnified. Kelly saw buildings and fields laid out in a

horseshoe shape.

She instantly recognized the three-meter-wide regulation crushed-white-quartz paths, the perfect geometry of the inspection yard, and the long parade grounds. There were obstacle courses to the west. And there was a rifle range. This was a UNSC military camp. There

might be weapons and ammunition there.

"Descend to five thousand meters and circle that camp," she ordered.

"Aye aye," the AI replied.

The
Beatrice
dropped, and a shudder started from the port wing and continued to thrum.

Kelly would make the most of their aerial reconnaissance. She had a feeling once this bird set down, it would never fly again.

On-screen Kelly saw other objects in the airspace—glints of dull gold.

"Radar contacts," Jerrod said. "Identical configuration to orbital pursuit craft."

A silhouette appeared and magnified on the display: three booms floating about a central sphere.

Dozens of those things circled the camp. They either hadn't noticed them yet, or didn't care.

"Move us off five kilometers to the west."

"Answering new course, aye."

There was a small clearing in the jungle. "Scan local airspace," Kelly said, "and if it's clear, put us down here."

She didn't want to give up the mobility this vessel afforded her, but she wasn't going to stay up here and be a target, either.

If she could camouflage the ship, then she might be able to keep her flight options open.

"No radar contact," the AI informed her. "Glide path calculated." Rumbling came from the undercarriage. "Horizontal attitude thrusters partially functional. Make ready to land."

She went aft to see if there was anything else she could salvage. From the mess she took plasticized blocks of F-rations and three jugs of water. She glanced into the engine compartment. Her armor's radiation counter clicked wildly. The plasma coils were half melted.

She returned to the bridge.

"Ma'am?" the AI said, uncertainty creeping into its voice. "Will you be taking me as well?"

Dr. Halsey would probably need the AI and it was effective in combat. "You're covered."

"Thank you, ma'am. Touchdown in three seconds."

Kelly watched the screens. There were no fliers. She was going to assume, though, that

they had already spotted her.

There was a bump and the engines whined down.

Kelly yanked the laptop and tossed it into a duffel. She unharnessed the Doctor and

gently threw her over her shoulder. She palmed the release hatch. The door eased down, becoming a gangplank.

The terrain outside was more swamp than meadow. Insects buzzed, but nothing else moved. She ran for the trees, covering the distance in ten long strides.

In the dark of the jungle she set Dr. Halsey against a tree and rechecked her vitals. Still strong and steady.

Kelly scanned the sky. No company.

She considered moving back to the ship and camouflaging it, but that might not be necessary The matte-black stealth craft blended almost perfectly with the shady tree line.

Kelly tried her COM, clicking on the E-Band.

"—
expect an immediate threat response. This is automated

general distress code Bloody Arrow. All UNSC personnel heed and stand to. We are under attack and require assistance. Camp Currahee and the northern peninsula have been invaded by unknown, possible Covenant, hostiles. Suggest orbital bombardment of the northern region as these entities are equipped with high-heat-output beam weapons. Our forces will remain under cover. Land in force and expect an immediate threat response
—"

Across the swamp came a whisper rustle
. Kelly took cover, leveled her MA5B, and held her breath. Two figures emerged from the jungle. Humanoid. Covenant? They were shrouded in

active camouflage. Their textures adjusted, and they looked like they were part leaf, part shadow. She'd seen Orbital Drop Shock Troopers experiment with this technology… but they'd never gotten it to work in the field.

The two figures halted. It was difficult to tell, but it looked almost as if one made a hand signal, thumb pressing into palm and other fingers inwardly curled.

That was the Spartan signal for "Unknown ahead. Wait."

She'd take a chance. If they were human and wearing the latest UNSC armor, they should be nonhostiles.

She eased one hand out from cover. She flashed her index finger once, and then again, and then the "come forward" gesture.

There was more rustling around her—flanking units.

Of course, no one was going to close across open terrain. Even friendlies.

Still, Kelly's combat training clicked on. She had to reposition, but that would mean leaving Dr. Halsey vulnerable.

One of the unknown was near; she couldn't hear it… just a tickling in the back of her mind, a sixth sense that told her she was being watched, and whatever was doing the watching was now too close for comfort.

There was motion in Kelly's peripheral vision, a blur.

She spun and saw a ghostly figure, moving toward her— faster than any human could

move.

Kelly sidestepped, grabbed the arm, twisted.

Her opponent reverse-twisted and countered the lock.

Whatever it was, it wasn't human; otherwise Kelly would have ripped its human arm from

the socket.

Her opponent twisted her wrist and escaped from Kelly's grip.

Kelly was still faster—her other hand lashed out, palm flat, and impacted the solar

plexus.

The other figure flew back two meters, hit a tree, and slumped.

"Stand down. Spartan!"

Kelly whirled. She recognized the voice—not Mendez's but another voice from the past…

one that couldn't be. That person was dead.

Before her stood a figure wavering as if a mirage, then the active camouflage faded, and a person in what looked like cut-down MJOLNIR armor was there, one hand holding an MASK rifle pointed at the ground, the other held up.

"No time to explain, Kelly," this man said over the COM. "Move! Hostiles in—"

An explosion tore through the jungle.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

1045 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, PLANET ONYX \ NEAR RESTRICTED REGION KNOWN AS ZONE 67

Kelly ducked and placed herself between the blast and Dr. Halsey. Splinters and stones pelted the energy shield of her MJOLNIR armor.

When the dust cleared, the other person—the one that had

sounded impossibly like Kurt—had vanished. So was the soldier she had knocked out.

Her questions would have to wait, because Kelly saw the source of that explosion: a drone identical to the ones they had seen in space now hovered ten meters off the jungle floor, moving like a moray eel through the trees and vines.

She aimed her MA5B and fired.

A burst of three rounds hit and deflected off a gold shimmer of shields.

It turned toward Kelly, and its central sphere heated.

Kelly sprinted to draw the fire away from Dr. Halsey. Five strides, darting between trees,

and she suddenly stopped, spun— jumped.

A flash of light blinded her, and then the world detonated where she had stood a second before.

The overpressure propelled her into the air. Kelly's shields drained to half, and she felt the heat prick her skin.

She hit the ground, chest first, rolled awkwardly, wobbled, and got to her feet.

A direct hit from that energy weapon would collapse her shield, and possibly melt her armor… and her.

Pistol fire crackled through the brush. The drone's shields glimmered, and the thing turned and moved away.

Kelly made out the camouflaged outlines of three soldiers, drawing it toward them.

She appreciated the help, but it was suicide for them.

Kelly started toward them.

An amber acknowledgment light flashed twice. That was the Spartan team "wait" signal.

She took cover behind a tree trunk.

The drone aligned for a clean shot on the two. Its center sphere glowed molten.

The trees to either side of the drone blasted into smoke and splinters. It was the sharp crack of high explosives that Kelly

recognized as a LOTUS antitank mine detonated above ground.

Two of the drone's booms twisted, bent inward by the force of the blast. The machine fell to the ground with a thud.

The trees that had held the antitank mines toppled as well and their two-meter trunks crushed the drone, the wood bursting into flames.

"One more," a voice said over her TEAMCOM. "Ten o'clock. Coming in fast."

She saw the new threat gliding toward them.

That was defmatly Kurt's voice. His last words had haunted Kelly's dreams for years. She remembered him tumbling into the black of space. "/'//
be okay. I'll be o
—"

She started to reply, but then realized he wasn't talking to her.

"Team Saber," Kurt continued, "move and draw fire. LOTUS mines out of range."

Green acknowledgment lights winked on her display, lights that been reserved exclusively for the Spartans of Blue Team.

Kelly had the fastest reflexes of any Spartan, a fact she was keenly proud of, and she practiced every day with twitch-response drills and Zen "no-thought" fire practice to keep them razor honed. But her physical reflexes weren't the only things that were lightning fast.

In a flash, several facts correlated in her brain.

Those drones had shields, but they didn't operate continuously. The antitank mines had caught the one with its shields down.

The drone had, however, seen her, anticipated her rifle fire, and countered. That meant either it had purposely activated shields or they were automatically triggered by motion or radar.

So she had, possibly, a way to take them out. It'd be risky but she wasn't going to stand by while Kurt's vulnerable team drew its fire and got roasted for their trouble.

"Hold your fire," she said over TEAMCOM.

With four pumping strides that gouged deeply into the jungle

loam she accelerated to her top speed of sixty-two kilometers per hour.

Kelly angled away from the drone, toward a tree just to its right.

She jumped, hit the trunk three meters up—pushed off, flipped, propelling herself through the air straight at the hovering machine.

No shields to stop her.

She grabbed the port and starboard booms and swung both legs onto the bottom spar.

Its central metal eye fixed her and heated to white-hot intensity.

She let go and braced as best as she could on the slippery bottom boom, balled her hands into fists, and then hit the thing as hard as she could—impacting the eye dead center. Her shields flared as it repelled the intense heat.