Halo: Indelible Past/Chapter Nineteen

It was only ten minutes after Simon and Zoey climbed up from under the bridge that the whine of Sangheili engines filled the air.
In a moment of panic, Simon almost forgot about the client at his heels. The blown-out streets and scattered corpses were dragging him away from Meru, from Sanghelios, back in time to Mamore. Then it had been the monstrous roar of UNSC war machines that had filled his ears as he scrambled through the rubble, ducking into anything that could be used for cover. He'd felt so small and helpless then, with just a spit-and-tape assault rifle and the ragged clothes on his back between him and oblivion. Now he had his SPI armor back, a plethora of weapons and equipment, and a smart AI to tap the enemy's communications and update him on all that went on in the airwaves.
And yet he still felt just as small and helpless as he had back then.
Nothing's changed, he realized as the sound of his own faltering breath filled his helmet's interior. Not a damn thing's changed. For all that had happened since Mamore, deep down he was still that terrified boy soldier running for his life inside someone else's stupid war.
"Mordred!" Zoey gasped, and it mingled with Emily's distant cry of Stray! while Cassandra's murmured Simon echoed beyond it. Simon gritted his teeth, his mind and body awash in fear and desperation. He ran on, running from the engines, from his enemies, from himself, from the indelible marks the past had engraved in his mind and soul.
"Mordred!" Zoey cried again. She wasn't cut out for this, she didn't have years of combat experience to draw from let alone training and augmentations. For all the money she would bring him at some nebulous point in the future, here and now she was nothing more than dead weight.
Simon ran on. Diana was saying something in his ear, but he barely heard it. The engine noises filled his mind and drowned out anything she had to say. His words from minutes ago drifted down through the noise as if from a lifetime ago: "This is all I know how to do"
His lungs were pounding almost as fast as his heart and there was a searing pain in his chest. It was all so damn pointless. I run and I run and then I stop for just a minute and try to rest before it all comes crashing down and I have to start running again.
Diana's voice came again, and this time it punched through the whirlwind in his head: "Take cover, dumbass!"
His body chose everything for him; he just went through the motions and skidded to a halt in the center of another plaza. He staggered, fighting to stay upright as Zoey collapsed in a terrified, gasping heap at his feet.
The ground trembled, and then a pair of Banshees tore through the sky overhead. As they began to head off towards the next row of buildings, Simon hoped against hope that they hadn't spotted him. But then they banked, turning off and spinning back around, and Simon knew it was over. The plaza was barren; it was a good ten second's run to even the slightest bit of cover. And there was no time for that. There was no time for anything.
Everything was happening faster than he could process, and yet everything was moving as if it were under water. The air filled with the sound of dozens of repulsors, and as he looked up it seemed as if they were spilling in from some hole in the sky.
No less than three Phantoms descended upon the square, and around them dropped individual warriors on hover-packs. A full squadron of Banshees circled the perimeter.
Simon's eyes felt numb as he tracked the hover-pack warriors as the alighted nimbly around him and were then joined by dozens more Sangheili who dashed forwards on foot. He glanced around, distanced from it all by fatigue and adrenaline as the net closed in around him.
Warriors poured in from all sides and more appeared on the rooftops above. He felt the weight of countless plasma repeaters all trained on him and shook his head in utter disbelief at how quickly the end had come. After all this time, all the days and months and years of clinging to life, he was about to die and there was nothing he could do about it.
On the ground, Zoey whimpered something that was halfway between a curse and a plea. A dim part of Simon realized that there really wasn't any way she'd make it out of this. When the warriors opened fire, the sheer heat from the plasma would roast her alive.
Just another corpse in a dead city. Just like Mamore...
Another thought flashed through his mind and he couldn't help but shake his head at the notion. "That armor," he muttered faintly.
"What?" For once, Diana's voice sounded legitimately terrified. Of course, her data crystal chip was slotted into his prosthetic arm. She would burn with him. "What are you talking about?"
"That armor we took off the dead Spartan," Simon replied, an image of the box he'd stowed it in flashing through his mind. "We left it back on Ro'nin's ship."
"What's the point, you miserable dumbass?"
"I was just thinking it might've come in handy right about now."
"Yeah." Her voice softened as if she, too, were mulling over this one insignificant detail. "And to think of all the cash we'd have made auctioning it."
"Yep." Simon shook his head again. "Left that damn data file on that asshole's shuttle as well. Shit ton of good it did us."
"Well, about that..."
Zoey moaned again and hit his leg with surprising vigor. The blow stung even through Simon's light armor plates. "Mordred!" she gasped, almost on the verge of tears. "You're Mordred! The bulletproof mercenary! They said you could make it out of anything! You always survive!"
Simon glanced down at her. As the blood drained out of his arms and a metal fist tightened around his stomach, everything seemed vaguely amusing, even the quivering, petrified girl at his feet. "Bulletproof mercenary?" he asked incredulously. "I didn't know I had a nickname. And who's 'they'?"
She looked up at him in horrified disbelief. "Do something!"
He scanned the ring of glaring warriors again. It certainly hadn't gotten any thinner. A patrol of Ghosts hovered behind the foot soldiers, and someone had even driven a Specter up to the perimeter. The transport vehicle's rear turret was leveled at him like every other gun in the area.
Simon looked back at Zoey. "Do what?" he demanded. "Any suggestions?"
He realized then that the warriors were taking an awfully long time to kill him. Glancing up, he saw that one of the Phantoms was descending, its side doors sliding open to reveal a Sangheili in the armor of an Ultra. It took a moment for Simon to realize who it was, and when he did he couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Oh," muttered Diana. "The hardass. Of course."
"What?" Zoey gaped at him. "What is it? Why are you laughing?"
It was either laugh or start sobbing in terror and wetting himself. Simon just shook his head and let out a final, nervous giggle. "It's Fira 'Demal!"
"Yeah," Diana said dryly. "This is hilarious."
The Sangheili who had walked through hell on Famul with him and Tuka glared down at them as the Phantom dropped to just ten feet off the ground. Simon could only hope the dropship's bulk kept the other aerial units from opening fire.
"So," Fira said after a silence punctuated by the continued, hostile presence of what seemed to be an entire legion of warriors. "We meet again, Simon. Or is it Mordred this time?"
"Nice to see you again, too," Simon called up, hoping that his voice wasn't letting on how utterly terrified he was. "You're as fun as ever."
He gestured at the surrounding warriors. "Overkill, much? These are a lot of guys just to handle little old me. Are you even allowed to take charge of 'em all?"
Fira's expression was, as far as Simon's basic knowledge of Sangheili faces went, a study in cold hostility. "In case you are unaware, these warriors are not disposed to take kindly to humans on Sanghelios right now. Particularly ones responsible for shattering the peace they fought so hard to win against the Fallen."
"Jeez, are we still sore about the Path Walker stuff?" Simon's mouth had taken over and was in full-blown stalling mode, shooting off anything that might delay Fira from having him killed for just a moment longer. "Let it go already, will you?"
"As evasive as ever," Fira said coldly, but there was an edge to his voice.
Diana noticed it to. "Hey, dumbass," she hissed in his ear. "We've got one over this guy from Beta-14, remember?"
"Hell yeah," he muttered back. The fist in his gut began to slowly unclench as he started mapping a way out of this death trap. "Get the holo-drones ready."
Simon had one ace up his sleeve that just might keep Fira at bay. The Ultra had had his ass on a platter back on Beta-14, but thanks to Tuka he'd let him slip away. Everything depended on whether or not Fira had reported the incident back to his superiors, but since he hadn't mentioned it yet Simon had a feeling he hadn't. And if he hadn't, he really wouldn't want to start discussing it in front of a crowd of agitated warriors.
It's a gamble, but what the hell have I got to lose?
Zoey punched his leg again. "What are you talking about? Do you know that alien?"
Of course. Zoey wouldn't have any way of translating what Fira was saying. All she heard was Simon having a one-sided conversation with a babbling alien.
"Not now," he muttered back. To Fira, he called: "Don't you have bigger problems to worry about than nailing me?"
"Not when you could be part of that larger problem."
It took Simon a moment to realize what Fira meant. "Oh, hell. You think all this is my fault?" The accusation stung more than it should have, given his track record.
"You started a war," Fira reminded him. "You should be grateful my superiors want you alive."
Simon's hands tightened around his rifle. Fira had dropped him another ace: these guys weren't interested in killing him. The chance for escape widened. Now all he needed was the right plan...
"Well," he said slowly. "It's nice to be so popular, I guess. But if you think I can help you solve your little terrorist problem, than you're in for a disappointment."
"Less talking, more escaping," Diana advised.
"Great," Simon hissed back. "Do you have a plan yet."
"I thought you were working on one."
"Do I look like I'm working on one?"
Above them, Fira was growing impatient. "Throw down your weapons and end this charade, Mordred. Stop stalling. I know you have that useless construct of yours working on some trick to help you get away."
That did it. Simon's eardrums throbbed as Diana slammed on an open frequency and shrieked up at Fira in fluent Sangheili: "You ungrateful bastard! I hope a Jiralhanae crushes your bones and sen-rats feast on your eyes, you traitor!"
A ripple of surprise passed through the assembled warriors at the sound of a furious female Sangheili emanating from Simon's helmet. Even Fira looked somewhat nonplussed as a stream of foul insults poured out at him. Even as his ears were aching, Simon grinned and reached for the holo-drones. A distraction was a distraction...
A cry rose up from the back of one of the encircling lances, and all eyes suddenly swung towards the noise. Surprised warriors parted to reveal three dead Sangheili, their corpses spilling fresh blood onto the plaza's slick pavement.
"Hold positions!" Fira bellowed, his voice stretching out across the assembled squadrons. "Where is the attack coming from?"
But the group next to the stricken lance was suddenly crying out as well. Two of their number had also dropped dead.
"What the hell?" Simon muttered, scanning the confused warriors. There would be a way out. There had to be a way out. An opportunity would present itself. It had to.
"There!" a warrior barked. "In active camouflage! Attack--"
Something bright flashed, and then the warrior's head was tumbling towards the ground. Two, no, four energy swords sprang to life as if out of thin air and began slashing through the tightly assembled warriors. Two or more fell with every slash and within moments an entire lance had been slaughtered.
"First lance, apprehend Mordred!" Fira ordered. "All other lances, contain the attackers!"
No less than eight warriors peeled off and charged towards Simon and Zoey. He raised his rifle and kicked Zoey. "Get ready to run!" he yelled. "Diana, the drones!"
The lance was almost on top of him when a human-shaped figure in what was clearly battered SPI armor darted in the middle of their formation. The warriors snarled and turned on the newcomer, but Fira waved them away. "Don't be fooled! He uses holograms!"
And then the newcomer detonated an EMP grenade.
For a moment the warriors staggered, surprised and blinded by the attack, but the newcomer was not. It raised a human-made submachine gun and killed three warriors with a single burst up at neck height. One made a grab for it, which was dodged and greeted with another burst into the gut. The remaining five backed away; their last mistake. The rest of the SMG's clip cut them down in a heartbeat.
Fira's Phantom swiveled its guns to face this new threat just as all hell broke loose in the air above them. Another Phantom had pulled up to the formation and promptly blasted one of the supporting dropships out of the sky with a plasma barrage. The Banshees swooped in to intercept, only to run headlong into a stream of plasma fire that surged from yet another Phantom that had come in from the opposite direction. Twisted, burning wreckage rained down on the plaza.
Fira didn't wait for a new lance to come after Simon. Pulling a needle rifle out from the dropship's interior, he leapt to the ground. Simon met him halfway with a panicked burst of assault rifle fire that knocked him off balance and sent him crashing backwards.
The Ultra rolled when he hit the ground, coming up and firing the rifle low. A hasty dive saved Simon's legs from a nasty hit, but left him down and unable to shift his rifle up in time.
"It's the humans!" Fira roared as discipline collapsed around him. The Sangheili broke ranks, firing at just about everything that moved. Those with hover-packs took to the air, heading up towards the attacking Phantoms while the infantry scattered. A second Sangheili Phantom exploded under combined fire from both of the new arrivals and the one Fira had just exited was doing its best to gain altitude while avoiding rockets that distinctly human-shaped crew members were firing down at it.
Simon scrambled to his feet in time for Fira to knock him flat with a solid kick to the chest. He gasped, the wind was knocked out of him, struggling to scramble away as the Ultra stalked forwards. The air was filled with confused battle cries and the whine of plasma repeaters, but Fira didn't seem to care anymore. His focus was entirely on Simon.
"Diana, the drone!" Simon choked. "Blind him!"
At once a flash of light engulfed Fira as the holo-drone shot up from its pouch on Simon's hip and flew towards the Sangheili. Fira leapt angrily through the hologram, but Simon had used the distraction to get back on his feet and train the assault rifle on him.
Fira lunged forward, his arms coming up to rip the rifle out of Simon's hands. But he passed through air. He'd been attacking another hologram.
The real Simon fired low, flaring Fira's shields and knocking him off balance. The Ultra whirled and fired wildly. Simon ducked as needle rounds punched through the air around him.
A rocket exploded only a few yards away, blasting apart a pair of warriors who had been trying to come at Simon from the side. Fira gestured furiously at their pulverized corpses.
"What more do I need to prove you're with these murderers?" he demanded. "Sparing you was the worst mistake I ever made!"
"I'm not with them!" Simon shouted over the din of combat. "You're the one who turned this place into a shooting gallery!"
Fira began to snarl a reply, but something unseen bowled him over and sent him sprawling. Simon realized too late that it was the camouflaged attacker from before, setting his HUD to scan for the outline just in time to see it loom up in front of him and hit him hard enough to send him flying back five feet.
He pulled himself up just as a grey-armored Sangheili flashed into view before him. This one was smaller and slimmer than Fira and his warriors, but it sported an energy sword hummed in either hand. This one didn't have any colorings on its armor, but Simon knew exactly what it was all the same.
The thing he'd dreaded most since Beta-14 stood before him with nothing to get between it and its intended prey. He reached for his assault rifle only to realize that it had landed a few feet away, just out of reach.
"The Path Walkers!" he yelled, desperately hoping to draw someone, anyone, over to him. The grey armored Sangheili darted towards him, and as the blades closed in Simon saw that the energy came not from handles but from the wrists of the armor itself.
He pulled one of his own energy swords off of his chest and thumbed it on. The blade hummed to life in his hands as he slashed at air. The Path Walker dodged it easily but didn't lash out with its own blades. Instead it stopped just a few feet away and beckoned at him.
"Come, Mordred," it said, and Simon blinked. This one was a female! What the hell is going on here?
The air pulsed around him as another EMP grenade went off. Both the female and Fira, who had just staggered to his feet, were blinded by the flash as a hand reached down and hauled Simon roughly up by the shoulder.
"The nearest building!" the SPI-armored attacker yelled in a man's voice. "The girl's already inside. Run!"
Simon did what he did best and ran, scooping up his assault rifle and sprinting towards the building his savior had indicated. He pushed his way past dead and dying warriors as the plaza continued to burn and explode around him. Knocking aside the shattered hulk of a wrecked Banshee, he darted inside, leaving the fires of war raging outside.
**
Zoey cowered against a curved plant-holder, her eyes radiating terror and confusion as the dark-uniformed soldiers milled about the small atrium. From where he stood beside her, assault rifle cautiously at his side, he couldn't blame her.
"Alright," he said slowly. He hadn't looked at another SPI helmet visor to visor since Famul, and now the man who had saved them out in the plaza was standing only a few feet away. "Time for some explanations."
"I don't owe you any explanations," the SPI man replied coldly. He turned to one of the other soldiers. "Radio the air units. See if they can't draw the rest of those warriors further away."
He turned on his heels and headed towards a ramp that headed up to the next floor. The rest of the soldiers advanced after him and Simon, pulling Zoey up by her elbow, followed.
"Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate what you guys did out there," Simon called after the SPI man. He was still coming down from his adrenaline high, amazed that he had escaped and cheated death once again. "I just want to know what the hell is going on around here."
"Vengeance," the SPI man said over his shoulder. "This is payback for over two decades worth of mass murder."
"Right," Simon muttered, drawing the word out under his breath.
"Psycho alert," Diana said in his ear. "I can smell the crazy on these guys, and I don't even have a nose."
"I take it you guys aren't the UNSC then," Simon said, plowing on with his efforts to probe them for information.
"Damn right we're not," snapped one of the soldiers. "Those imperialist fucks wouldn't have the balls to do this to even one of the squid-heads' colonies. We're hitting them on their home turf."
"Yeah, I noticed."
The SPI turned and stood off to the side, letting the soldiers file up past him. He held out a hand to stop Simon and Zoey from going after them.
"If anyone should be asking questions, it should be me," he told them, patting the submachine gun dangling from his hip. "For starters, what's Mordred and some kid doing on Sanghelios?"
So this guy knew who he was. That was either a good thing or a bad thing; Simon couldn't tell which. "A business deal went south," he explained after a moment's hesitation. "Someone tried selling me out to the local government, and here I am."
The SPI man seemed satisfied with this explanation. He turned and headed up after the soldiers, beckoning for them to follow. "We don't plan on leaving anytime soon, but if you lend us your gun we'll give you a ride off this rock when we do."
"Seems fair," Simon replied as cheerfully as he could. He had no intention to help these people on their insane little crusade, but if he went with them it would buy him time to figure out his own way of getting off-world. "You have a name?"
"They call me Reaper," the terrorist replied. "I've pulled some freelance work for the Syndicate before I signed on with this group."
They reached the upper floor. The soldiers had fanned out, establishing a perimeter while two others worked on a small pile of equipment off by the wall. An open balcony offered a clear view of Meru's skyline. 
"Reaper, huh?" Simon said. "I think I've heard of you. You're the one who killed that governor back on Cordial Harmony, right? Two months ago?"
"Yeah, that was me," the Reaper replied. He strode over to check on the work the two technicians were doing. "I need to eat just like everyone else."
"And who are the rest of these guys?" Simon asked, gesturing at the soldiers. Zoey was practically hanging on his arm, as if she were trying to pull him back down the ramp.
"A privately sponsored merc group," the Reaper said. "They used to run for the insurrection, but now they mostly just take contracts from the Syndicate."
One of the soldiers glared at him. "This is temporary," he snapped. "Once we get enough funds, we're going back to fighting the real war."
The Reaper seemed to find this amusing. "As if you'll ever get that far with Venter heading you up."
Simon's blood froze. His palms stung through his gauntlet as his grip tightened on the rifle, his muscles stiffening as a million different images flashed before his eyes. Venter...
Zoey felt the tension and backed away. "Mordred?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Simon said carefully. He could feel a different gun in his hands now, a pistol, and looking at Zoey he saw for just a moment the features of another grimy girl, this one on her knees in a dark shack.
Stray, please, no...
Give your body to the cause, Stray...
The Reaper straightened, oblivious to the fire coursing through Simon's veins. "Right, we're done here. Get ready to evac, people."
An instinctive, wolfish smile slid over Simon's face. They'd take him to where Venter was. Finally, after all this time, he'd have Venter within his reach. All he had to do was go with them, and Venter would be his.
"Right," he said, forcing a casual tone. "I'm with you guys."
"You dumbass," Diana spat inside his helmet. "Venter ditched me, too, remember? He left both of us to die, and we made it out okay. Don't go getting us killed over him!"
Simon ignored her and gestured for Zoey to follow. The Reaper and the rest of the ex-insurgents moved towards the balcony. They were waiting for another one of their hijacked Phantoms to pick them up. As Simon strode towards them, he glanced at the device the technicians had been working on. A football-sized sphere sat amidst a small pile of wires and status monitors, lights flickering across its rough surface.
"Mordred?" Zoey asked. She was hanging back, staying back near the ramp. "Are we really going with them?"
"If you've got a better solution, I'd love to hear it," Simon told her. "Come on, get moving."
"Liar!" Diana snarled. Simon had never heard her this angry before, and his surprise cut through the promise of having his hands around Venter's throat. "You stupid, dumbass liar, you just want to kill him and get us all killed--"
"Shut up," Simon said through gritted teeth. He had waited too long for this, suffered too many memories, too many sleepless nights, just to pass this up.
"Mordred, hurry up," the Reaper called. The familiar, dreaded whine of a Phantom filled the air, and then it was on top of them and the soldiers were piling in.
"Mordred!" There was an edge of warning in the Reaper's voice. "Either come with us or stay here."
"Right." Simon clambered up into the Phantom's troop bay, pushing aside the insurrectionists to make room for Zoey. She came forward falteringly, extending a trembling hand for Simon to pull her up after him. She crouched low on the bay floor, still cradling the pistol that she'd somehow managed to keep hold of through all the confusion.
Diana screamed another stream of insults into his ear, but for once Simon decided not to put up with it. He reached into his arm and yanked the memory crystal chip out, silencing her mid-rant. The chip slipped into one of his equipment pouches. He'd need her to help plan his escape and he could expect an earful when he reactivated her, but he'd deal with that when the time came. There was, however, one last thing that needed to be taken care of.
Diana had let the trace frequencies of the Sangheili communications she'd been patching into on his helmet's onboard computer. As the bay doors closed and the Phantom lifted into the air, Simon locked in on the most secure channel he could find. It was a gamble; if the rebels were listening in he was finished. But this would pay off in the long run. It had to.
"Attention, government forces," he said. He didn't bother using his broken grasp of Sangheili language. It was more important to be articulate in a language they could translate than limited in one they spoke. "This is Mordred. You know, the guy you want so bad. Patch me in to Fira 'Demal, ASAP. I want to negotiate."
A pause, and for a moment Simon feared the frequency was completely wrong. Then a gravely, familiar voice responded, "This is he."
"Fira, you've got a nuke in one of the buildings around the plaza. Top floor, it's not even hidden. I don't know how long you've got, so you might want to look into finding it."
There was a long silence on the other end. Then Fira's voice growled, "Another trick, then, to throw us off your scent?"
Simon sighed, playing the desperate fugitive for all he was worth. "Listen, I just took off in one of their Phantoms. They think they just hired me on in exchange for safe passage. Do you want a way to track them back to their HQ or what?"
"And what do you want in return?" Fira asked warily.
"I'd like that nuke not to go off, and I'm sure the rest of the city would be very grateful if you could keep it from being vaporized."
"And what else? I know you, Mordred, you want something for yourself out of this."
He couldn't help smiling inside his helmet. He took the bait. "Well, since you're offering, I want you all to chill out and stop trying to kill me. And I want protective custody when this latest bit of crazy is over."
"Protective custody?" Fira seemed surprised by the request."
"The Path Walkers want me dead. The UNSC wants me dead. If you guys are smart about this and take my offer, you won't be wanting me dead pretty soon, and since that's the case you seem like a pretty good bet for keeping the first two from killing me."
"Your offer? You already told us about the device."
"Yeah, but I could be a lot more specific, especially since you don't have a whole lot of time to look for it. And I haven't even activated that tracking beacon yet."
This time Fira was silent for nearly a full minute. Simon glanced around at the troop bay, wondering what exactly the rebels thought their chances were of making it off Sanghelios alive. The grim silence in the air more than answered his question. But they were Venter's men, and Simon had no qualms about selling them out.
The comm feed clicked, bringing Fira back on the air. "Very well," he said wearily. "I will do all in my power to see that your demands are met."
"Glad to have such an understanding friend. The building I ran into after the firefight had a big atrium on the ground floor. It was one of the shorter buildings around the plaza. There's a big open balcony overlooking everything; that's where you'll find the nuke."
It would have been easier with Diana, but a few tweaks to the HUD and he had a small signal broadcasting from his helmet. "Nice doing business with you," he said, terminating the link.
Of course, it all hinged on whether or not Fira's warriors could disarm the bomb before it went off. Simon assumed the deal would be null and void if Meru got turned into a smoking crater. He knew Fira well enough that he trusted him to keep his word, and right now that was the least of his worries.
He passed his tongue over his dry, expectant lips. Venter was getting closer. And when he was close enough, the nightmare he had lived since Mamore could finally end.
Quite a few nightmares were going to end.
Category:Actene