Del Rio swung around to Lasky. “Okay, they’ve opened fire on the ship. Stand by.”
“It’s Defender of Faith, ” Parangosky murmured. Nobody asked her how she knew. Fleet seemed to accept that ONI heard al and saw al . “I’d cal that compact. Twelve hundred meters length overal , ventral energy beam. Don’t see many of those.”
“Lasky, what’s she doing?” Hood asked.
Lasky leaned over a console that stil had disconnected conduit sticking out of it. “Not returning fire, not yet. She’s powered up to give him a zap, though.” He indicated a sensor screen. “Look at her energy and temperature profiles.”
“And that looks like more troops moving in now,” Del Rio said. “Are we waiting for a formal request from the Arbiter or not?”
If Vaz had placed a bet, he’d have put his money on the Arbiter preferring to make a last stand on his own rather than beg a human for help.
Silent bolts of light shot out from the destroyer and struck the west side of the keep. Why didn’t they just bombard the main buildings? But hinge- heads had agendas like anyone else. They seemed to want to get into the keep rather than pulverize it. Maybe there were things that they needed to recover.
“We can probably get the ship’s attention and make sure we’re justified in targeting her, Captain, but let me help the Arbiter make up his mind.”
Hood waited a few moments, gazing up at the deckhead, then the muffled sounds of explosions fil ed the bridge. Hood nodded at the comms officer to open a link. “Arbiter, this is Terrence Hood. Where are your ships?”
There was a little doglike cough. The Arbiter didn’t sound like a man who was winning, but at least he stil had comms. “They have yet to arrive, Admiral.”
So the Arbiter had been left high and dry by his chums. Hood didn’t blink, but Vaz knew a man who was enjoying himself when he saw one. “Wel , in case they’ve been held up in traffic,” Hood said, “shal we remove that destroyer for you while you’re waiting?”
Silence: it was a long pause, probably while the Arbiter wrestled with his hinge-head sense of manly honor. But he was already screwed because he’d gone soft on humans, so what difference did it make if he accepted Hood’s help? Vaz had thought the Arbiter was a bit more pragmatic than that. He could always climb back to the moral high ground—if these bastards had any—when he’d crushed the rebels.
“I should decline,” the Arbiter said, “but I cannot.”
“I’l take that as a yes, then. Stand by.” Hood folded his arms and nodded at Del Rio. Parangosky had taken a few steps away from the chart table to sidle up to Mal. Vaz had no idea she could move that fast. “Al yours, Andrew.”
Del Rio stil looked like it was simply an exercise, frowning slightly in concentration. “Aine, give me a projection of where that ship wil come down.”
Defender of Faith started to lift. She was right above her own troops, but also dangerously close to the keep if she was shot down. Vaz couldn’t believe that a simple handshake had brought them to this—that they could be within striking distance of the enemy homeworld, able to destroy what leadership it had left, all of it, without any real chance of being hit, and yet they were working out how much col ateral damage they’d cause if they took out a destroyer.
This is it. This is the one chance we’ll get. Do it now. Screw the treaty. Fry them, maybe seize the destroyer and do a little glassing of our own.
Because they’ll be back one day. You know they will.
But just as he’d stepped back from shooting Halsey and meting out the justice that he knew damn wel the Navy and the courts never would, Hood wouldn’t finish off the Sangheili, and neither would Parangosky.
But at least Parangosky’s holding back because she knows you have to kill them all in one go, or else you leave enough of them around to start another war.
Vaz looked up at Mal, but Parangosky had steered him away to a quiet alcove. She didn’t look as if she was asking him about his dinner plans.
Austen, the principal weapons officer, had both hands on the flat section of his display like a concert pianist composing himself for a real y difficult piece. “Howlers ready, Captain—target acquired, altitude five hundred meters, climbing.”
“Estimated ground impact?”
“Too close to cal .”
“Get her attention. Active sensor ping. Let her know we’ve got a lock on her.”
Vaz put his finger to his earpiece and tried to listen in to Port Stanley’s channel without making it look too obvious. Phil ips took his cue and did the same.
BB’s voice whispered theatrical y in his ear. “I’m redacting ‘Telcam’s transmissions, just in case.”
“In case…?”
“In case he says something that we don’t want Hood to hear.”
“Like who he is.”
“Like when his prize warship turns into a fireworks display.”
Defender had now disappeared from the chart. “Target ascending two thousand meters and locking on, sir,” Austen said. “She’s got us.”
“Pods one, two, and three, spread—fire Howlers.”
“Pods one, two, three—missiles away, sir.”
Yes, it might as wel have been an exercise. Vaz didn’t feel any vibration or hear a sound as sixty missiles streaked down at the destroyer below.
He couldn’t even see what was happening. The chart display was focused on the ground and he was in the wrong place to watch what the hul cams were picking up. Austen counted down, quiet and calm.
“Time to target, ten seconds … missiles incoming … incoming tracked and neutralized … five seconds … impact, sir.”
Vaz needed to see this for himself. Defender hadn’t even been able to get her missiles past Infinity’s defenses. He went over to the weapons station and watched the hul cam feeds over the shoulders of a couple of ensigns. He wasn’t sure what the magnification was, but he could see the destroyer venting vapor and flame, turning slowly to starboard.
“Damage assessment?” Del Rio asked.
“Stil making way, but her hul ’s breached.”
“Finish her off, Lieutenant. Pods four and five. Fire.”
“Howler pods four and five—missiles away.”
Vaz counted but didn’t make it to ten seconds before Defender of Faith bloomed into a bal of white light. When the firebal died away, the ship’s bow section was shredded like a blown tin can and she was spinning slowly, starting to fal out of the sky as her drives failed.
“Aine, debris impact projection,” Del Rio said.
“The main hul ’s likely to fal five kilometers west of Mount Kolaar, in a wooded area.” The AI had a flat, disinterested female voice. Vaz got the feeling she’d be a bit of a misery to work with. “There’s a lot of smal er debris already fal ing along that corridor now.”
“Good work, Austen.” Del Rio managed a smile. “I think I’m going to like this ship.”
Hood stepped back from the chart table and nodded to the comms officer again for a link. “Arbiter, this is Hood. In case your sensors haven’t detected it, we’ve disabled Defender of Faith. She’l come down around five kilometers west of you.”
“That is … welcome. Thank you, Admiral.”
“And shal we remove some of the trespassers from your front lawn while we’re here? Let’s nip this in the bud. Or else you’l be fighting these cowboys for years.”
Vaz had always wondered what lurked under Hood’s aristocratic exterior. Now he knew that something did, but not exactly what it was. He couldn’t tel if the guy was reminding the Arbiter who had the real power now, or putting a warning shot across Parangosky’s bows—that he knew what she was doing, and he wanted her to know that he knew, but whether he approved of it or not was another layer that Vaz couldn’t unravel.
Parangosky put her finger to her ear very discreetly, just a casual brush. She was probably listening to BB or Osman.
On the chart table, things were hotting up. Vadam keep was stil under fire, but now the ground assault vehicles were moving forward, slowed down by a sea of troops.
“Arbiter?” Hood said. “Do I have your answer?”
“I stil await my ships,” the Arbiter said at last, “so I must accept your assistance again.”
“Sir, four enemy vessels are entering the sector,” Aine said suddenly. “Frigates.”
“Target them if they get a lock on us, Lieutenant.” Del studied the chart. “And let’s lay down some MAC. Without reducing the keep to rubble, that is.”
“That’s going to push the edge of the impact crater to the shoreline, sir.”
“Very educational,” Hood said. “I’d notice that and talk about it for weeks, if I were a Sangheili.”
“Aye, sir. Fore MAC solution acquired—damage estimate on screen three.”
“Months, even,” Hood murmured.
Parangosky interrupted. “Gentlemen, we have an informant on the ground in that area. Give me a few moments to get him clear. I’l need to pul him out.”
Vaz concentrated on keeping his expression total y blank. Hood looked around but Del Rio didn’t.
“Hold MAC,” Del Rio said quietly. “I repeat, hold MAC.”
The muscles in Hood’s jaw twitched but he didn’t say a word. It was very bad timing, not like Parangosky at al , but she had to have some plan in mind. She didn’t make mistakes. Parangosky just nodded—not to Hood, probably to BB—and long seconds ticked away. Vaz caught Mal’s eye and Mal pointed to his earpiece.
Listen in.
“Yes, I would if I were you,” BB whispered. Vaz’s receiver was suddenly ful of snarling and argument, with Osman and ‘Telcam going at it like cat and dog, and Osman snapping back: “Just damn well get out. Get out now. Go to the RV point. Run. ”
Now Vaz knew what was coming next. Mal gestured toward the exit and Vaz obeyed. He looked back once and Phil ips was right behind him.
“You better stay here,” Vaz said.
“I’m the liaison.”
“I’l dump you in the hangar.”
“Just try it.”
Vaz couldn’t hear the comms link with ‘Telcam now. Al he heard was Parangosky say, “You can resume now, gentlemen.” ‘Telcam had been given a head start, but it wasn’t much.
“Fire fore MAC,” Del Rio said.
“Fire fore MAC. MAC away, sir.”
The projectile struck the surface like a big meteor impact just as Vaz passed one of the ground monitors. It sent out shock waves like a nuke.
There was something so apocalyptic and final about it that he turned to watch and almost stopped in his tracks.
We could pound them into the dirt right now. We could lob in a few more MAC rounds and they’d be screwed for years, maybe forever. You’re wrong, Parangosky. For once, you’re wrong.
Mal steered him ahead. “Move it, Vaz. You can watch the action replay later.”
“Is Tart-Cart fixed?” Phil ips asked.
“No, we’re walking the rest of the way for our health.” Mal put on a sprint and pressed the elevator control. “Of course she’s fixed. Now we’ve got to extract you-know-who, provided he’s not a pile of liver paté by the time we get there.”
Phil ips could keep up, but he was puffing. “Is the deck transit back online yet? Maybe they should instal miniportals.”
“Next left, Vaz,” BB said. “No, I said left.”
“So you’ve found your true vocation. Satnav.”
“I always know when you’re upset. You get bitchy. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You can tel me.”
“Nothing. ”
The elevator final y reached the hangar deck and they raced down the passage. A gang of civilian contractors dropped their tools and flattened themselves against the bulkheads. By the time he reached the hangar, Vaz was out of breath and sweating almost as badly as Phil ips.
“Now who’s the porker?” Mal said, shoving him in the back. “Bloody hel , Dev, what have you done to Tart-Cart?”
“She’s pimped , Staff.” Devereaux waved from the cockpit. “She’s loaded. Even an air freshener, which I decided was kind of essential seeing as Phil ips has been eating that Sangheili dog food.”
The dropship—stil matte gray, but now a subtly different shape, and with more smal pods protruding from her skin—looked smal and lonely in the hangar. A couple of Huragok were stil wafting around. Maybe they were pleased with their handiwork; it was hard to tel . Vaz gave them a thumbs-up. They tilted their heads back and forth as if they thought he was trying to sign to them. Naomi reached out and gave him a hand up into the crew bay.
“Have we stil got deflective camo, Dev?” Mal asked.
“I made them leave it alone, but they said it was rubbish. Who taught them the word pants?”
“Not me,” said Mal. “Why’s everything my fault?”
Inside, the dropship was unrecognizable except for the basic layout, nothing startling but enough to make Vaz fumble for handles and clips that were no longer there. Naomi thudded into her seat and pointed. A scaled-down version of Infinity’s real-time chart appeared in the middle of the crew bay. The Huragok real y had been extra-busy.
“Pilot pester power,” Naomi said. “Devereaux was very insistent that they gave her the most useful upgrades from Infinity.”
She was oddly chatty for once. Is she okay? Vaz looked for clues. “But they’l do it for anybody, won’t they?” Is she worrying about her dad? How does she manage to bury it? “They don’t care who they arm.”
“Probably,” Naomi said. “And that makes them more human than we like to admit.”
