DT 2020: What Follows The Rangmejo

"Not literally, but that was how the rumors went. The cry of a Rangmejo promised that Forerunners were not far behind. Of course, this was supposed to be an uncolonized preserve, there were no Forerunners here..."
"Still, that whistle came far too early and stayed just a second too long."
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:"What Follows The Rangmejo"
:In a time before the Flood and Halos...
No matter the galaxy's age – its inhabitants found meaning in war as their most defining state. Even those who claimed another path, to be above such baser instincts, fell into this form eventually.
The Forerunners did not fool themselves, maintaining their martial forces for such occasions. To the civilizations in the lower orders of their hegemonic Ecumene that spanned the galaxy, some saw them as oppressors. But in a system where exploitation led to flourishing and defending your claim was the natural order, to hold such a reputation was to be warranted, even expected.
Even the peace and prosperity-loving Mantle of Responsibility, the Forerunner's most cherished of abstracts, allowed many caveats for the practice of warfare. For a garden to flourish, it must be tended to. And the Forerunners saw themselves, set themselves up as those caretakers.
Any who challenged, stole, exploited beyond their measure was dealt with. Upstarts to be knocked back down; those who dared fly too close to the light only to be burned back to earth.
In the millennia following the Forerunner pattern of civil wars called the Kradal conflicts, select human groups strayed from their token empire in search of new worlds to foster their ways as all intelligence life sought to do – expand and thrive.
And they weren't without reason. Growth came with stimulation. Violence begot violence. At one point or another, cyclical action was another standard for the galactic order. Only those with power shook stability, and those too weak that tried were swallowed by the churn in kind.
One survey faction tried to forge a new beginning on an Ecumene apparatus world. One group, one ship. They were warned well what became of those that did not bring might to match the scale of their dreams.
"Ramp descended, Away Team – go!"
The upstarts made landfall on a planetary garden void of colorful individuals. Just an extensive, plentiful overgrowth and the Forerunner-built maintenance towers spiking needlessly towards the deep blue sky.
A small smear glinted in the resident star's gentle light, a comfortable reminder of friends near. Six humans stomped in rapid rhythm from their bulbous landing ship as adjustment thrusters hissed with character intensity – the craft's AI director jumpy to be on a world lay claim to by the mighty Ecumene. No one was supposed to come here, but of course here humans were anyway.
They came here with a reason, they justified it to themselves. Just as they did with all things. Just as all beings did.
"Away Team reports successful landfall. Air taxi is free to pass off."
The adjustment thrusters hissed into a full-on roar. Sparks crackled as a fire burned from the undercarriage, propelling little by little until the transport lifted off the meadow grounds. As a certain energy-momentum passed, the air taxi whined, shot up, and whisked back towards the deep blue. A few seconds more – it shrunk to a dark blip, and then, gone.
The six-human cell watched their friendly transport leave them in the dust. Once out of sight, the shock-incurred silence faded. The birds sang and hoppers whistled beneath the afternoon sun. The only sign of a foreign contact came in the form of charred ground where the air taxi once sat.
For the humans, they proceeded their way into the overgrowth. The alien grasses colored in faded reds and greenish-blues felt graceful against their auto-sensory environmental suits. This was an alien world, even as it looked like home.
The human environmental suits were the definition of high tech to a future observer, however, for these beings, it was but contemporary. The average of what a human could afford in their cross-culture markets between the San'Shyuum, human, and other mid-order polities. It would be appropriate to say the Forerunners were selective in collaborating with the lower orders, but their technology and expertise trickled down eventually to the worlds they maintained a presence on.
The suits glowed with dim blue lights. Darkened tights with meta-material panels interwoven for protection against all forms of adversarial weapons – ballistic, plasma, hardlight. Their helmets were inconspicuous, revealing no face and only the unflinching glare of uniform, aggressive-looking military visors and goggles to view the world from within.
Their hybrid weapons hung securely from belts and equipment vests. Science scanners came out, in hand, as the human team pressed through the wilderness passing below familiar trees and alien birds.
A brief whistle caused them a brief pause in their relaxed march – the sound of a reptilian quadwing, a Rangmejo, overhead. Most of the fauna and flora on this world were familiar but unregistered in the information directories of the human state. Instead, the things that came as known were viewed in a different light, as threats.
Rangmejo were a common sight on Forerunner-claimed worlds. Pests, harassers, galactic-renowned poop factories. But they were also the eyes of Forerunners.
Not literally, but that was how the rumors went. The cry of a Rangmejo promised that Forerunners were not far behind. Of course, this was supposed to be an uncolonized preserve, there were no Forerunners here.
What mattered now was to secure the local uplink site and disable the communique with the rest of the Ecumene. They wouldn't take it offline, no, that would bring them too much attention. Instead, they would spoof the signal – create a narrative for Forerunner system-watchers that everything was just fine, operating at nominal levels. From there, the away team could rest easy as the settlers that requested their services would soon follow.
A part of the profits, in coin and material, would be their reward. That was why they came here. This was not a first-time gig; it would not be the last.
Still, that whistle came far too early and stayed just a second too long.
Once the orange glider appeared in view, the team waited in silent observation. It slipped between clouds and treetops but paid no mind to the foreigners below; its long duckbill beak and fish-like eyes continued scanning the horizon for the next meal.
After the Rangmejo disappeared back above the canopy, the group's female wiretapper broke the silence. "Should we have shot it down?"
A believer of omens, this one.
"No Carina, we don't want to do that. Killer of Rangmejo will forever carry that taint on them until the end. Forerunners can smell a Rangmejo-killer from light-years. They'll flash into your bedroom at the darkest hour of any month, and convert your soul into a toaster bot."
Grounder, the other female, and pathfinder for the group. The den mother and strong-arming type, but one who stood below a height of five feet.
"Can… can they really do that?" Tomei hissed in fear, glancing around the deep tree line.
The away team's new male muscle after his predecessor picked a fight with a San'Shyuum bruiser during a port visit. They never did confirm his death; or his life for that matter. The point of disintegration was as much an assessment as was said.
"Shut it, new blood. Just carry that rifle and keep your eyes up – and no, they really can't," Carina hissed.
"But—but AIs are made with dead beings of—"
"You really, really think Forerunners would waste time sticking your head in a toaster bot? Sheesh, you're not even worth that much."
"Carina. Lay off the guy – he's new. You know it was a joke, I know it was a joke. No reason to antagonize someone fresh off the boat. We all started there; you've only got three Domain taps yourself."
The wiretapper growled at the pathfinder but didn't offer the older woman even a glance.
"Let's move it now – we got fourteen cycles until sundown and I'd like to rendezvous at the system's edge before my wife has supper ready," Ardeau reasoned. His imposing voice hid a soft side, a family man who set aside his life with the Cooperative commando force.
"Thinking with your stomach again, Ard? We just touch down." The other muscle, Tengou, asked.
"All the time, club. But like I said, we should really get to that tower and get this done – whether Builder or Lifeworker security – their sentinels are still mean. I'd rather not increase our chances of an encounter by standing still."
The chatterers settled down at that remark. When Ardeau discussed military affairs – he didn't joke. Imposing, honesty slipping into brutal, a family man. He was a man of many details, but his warnings were life and death in jobs like these.
The group kept to Grounder's trek, a path of least resistance and least evidence as darker shades colored their surroundings. Only Tomei looked up in awe. A skyward tower painted in silver and forged in smart-matter buzzed with electrical energy. Yet it did not hum at the rate of 'unnatural', rather it felt welcoming and the fauna-songs carried on without pause – even for the struts of humming plasma apparent through windows of transparent metal that too climbed around the tower's artifice like window paneling.
The structure stood on a flat hill, cut clean with exception to the surrounding forest beneath the gentle incline. Meadows and forest numbered the hill country landscape and any more towers dotted the near horizon, but this hill stood out – cut free from the natural fabric of others and dressed like a freshly cut lawn.
Could it be looked on as a castle tower in a fairy tale? The ones with hidden evil dragons and trapped princesses waiting at the top? Maybe, but architectural marvel aside – the Forerunners maintained such mundane uses for their most beautiful of forged structure.
It was a borderline infuriating design choice for many onlookers. A giant shining tower erected in a tranquil wilderness setting as if the stuff made from dreams. And they use it essentially as a frequency tower.
After the second visit to a structure like this, such as for a relatively new upstart of Carina's nature, it just stopped carrying a sense of grandiose. For their contemporary marvels, the Forerunners could be rather shallow about matching scale with purpose.
A gapping, narrow cut hole appeared in view pointed towards the structure's east. Dark, perplexing, and still visually inviting. The group kept off the smooth obsidian path that led to the entrance from a deserted landing pad nearby.
"What should we expect from security? The usual lot?" Tengou asked as they closed within a football field of the opening.
"Why ask? Ardeau gave you the intelligence brief first, didn't he?" Remhu, the group's last introduced muscle asked in bewilderment and hefted his weighty munitions pack with some effort. A lightweight compared to Ardeau, how Remhu always ended up with the bag was anyone's guess.
"It's for Tomei's sake, the kid looks like the tower's constructed from pure chocolate at this rate."
"I am not! I'm not-not doing anything!"
Tengou grabbed the younger muscle by the shoulders and patted them down firmly. "You're glancing back and forth between the door and the forest like it's going to eat you up. I just want to make sure you're comfortable with a clear head."
"I am… I am! It's just," The younger muscle tried to shrug off the experienced muscle, but his grip held fast. "It's Forerunners. I joined on because the pay was good, but now we're here…"
"We've all done this before – the guy you replace didn't die on a survey like this. He was a stupid blowhole, to be frank. The fact that you got some fear is a good sign, you'll outlive him."
Tomei let out a soft huff, more uncertain than resisting.
Seeing that his message earned some merit with the younger muscle, Tengou let him go and stepped away.
Ardeau spoke up, "Look, Carina should have told you this when she picked you up dockside.
The wiretapper's glance hid the evident glare intended for the group's leader.
"But at the very worst, we could encounter sentinels and maybe passive format defenses. If we don't become an active threat, we won't see automatons – and if we do, that's why we have you and the other muscle. I've seen your back home history; you showed some real talent working with the Syndication folk. You'll do fine with us."
Tomei muttered a noncommittal "alright" and seemed to harden up but fell back into the formation of six. It wasn't a great emotional state to have for a fighter in a hostile environment like this, but the team was on a timetable. Enough time had been wasted already trying to placate and groom the new talent.
"Carina, Grounder, take point and find the control chamber. Remhu and Tengou, go with them. I'll stay here with our new club and secure the entrance," Ardeau ordered.
Carina eyed the new blood she seemed to have poorly equipped for this job but carried on with the orders, following Grounder into the dark entrance. Remhu and Tengou weren't far behind.
The group's footsteps clicked and echoed into the dark, disappearing into shadow and out of sight just as their flashlights flicked on – dancing into the darkness as they scoured the structure's interior.
It grew quiet. Tomei's hands clasped around his hybrid rifle, his eyes scanning out towards the gentle greenery below. It was some time before he glanced back at Ardeau and found the military veteran taking a casual lay down atop the grassy knoll in the shade of the tower.
"What? Uh, sir?" Tomei stammered out, unsure what to make of this Ardeau character. He was imposing, both in the physical and vocal quality. But he did things outside expectation too, like curling his fingers into the soft grass beneath him. Like a child.
Ardeau's head tilted at the younger one, "What is it, club?"
"You're—" The younger man gestured at Ardeau's sprawl.
"Oh? I'm relaxing, this is the easy part of the job. Chill out a bit, enjoy the little things."
"But this is a Forerunner planet. Aren't you worried?"
The cell leader considered the question before reaching down to his scanner and giving it a brief wave, receiving a screen prompt, he showed it to Tomei.
Air analysis came up clear, an Erde-Tyrene equivalent. Human-accepting.
Slipping the scanner back to his belt, Ardeau tweaked at his mask until the menacing visor came free and his night-like skin and red-colored beard came free. His chin-tipped hair sat mush and curled from the face-tight seal; droplets of unabsorbed sweat still clung to the beard.
For effect, Ardeau took in a deep breath and exhaled. "Take a seat, it smells like back home."
Frowning at the exercise-in-effort, it took Tomei a few seconds before carrying through. He checked his own scanner to be on the safe side, receiving similar results. His visor soon came off, revealing a youthful bronze face only beginning to sprout with its first spots of hair-fiber.
Sliding over to the Forerunner metal wall for some support, Tomei placed himself on the other side of the structure entryway. A low whistle of cool and warm air slipped between the open pathway and the young muscle had to admit, the structure gave the sensation of a natural cave even if it didn't look the part.
"Tell me about yourself, club. Why did you agree to come out this far into the wilds?"
Tomei looked over to the inquisitive Ardeau, the giant of a warrior revealed nothing but polite curiosity.
"It was either lock up or first-opportunity off-world. Banish list and all that."
"For your Syndication gig?"
"It was just dirty work. I didn't hurt anyone. The other kids and I were just made to move expired elderly and process essence, experience for the caricature market. The marshals have been trying to shut down the non-regulation expression market for generations. My employers cut their losses and got out of the system when they learned of a sting."
"I did see you do some bodyguard work for them, even saw they bankrolled advanced combat tactics."
Tomei glanced up, "Wait, that was all on my file?"
"Of course, that banish list is sort of a foster outfit. Nothing is hidden when the marshals want to get rid of their excess youth. Interstellar work is a youth's game; I liked your profile, so my wife and I sponsored you for our gig. It's not easy work, certainly dangerous and exciting, and very little reputation to build up from. But we're family, we aren't a macro-gig. We keep and cultivate our talent. When this is all over and both of us are graying in the head, maybe we'll both end up in your expression market gig, getting our brains synthesized for entertainment or knowledge."
Tomei shivered at that notion.
Ardeau chuckled at the response. "All I'm saying is that working for me means you'll live an eventful, productive life. You'll fit in and do well with us; I'm certain of it."
The team leader's usual bark of a voice had taken on a softer tone through the conversation. It was a different experience for Tomei, but he could almost imagine what Ardeau promised.
"Ardeau, sir? Ard? Can I call you that?"
"Sure thing, Ard is fine. Everyone else pretty much does. What's your question anyway?"
Tomei tested his words, trying to sound a bit more articulate.
"Can you tell me what this job is like? Like what am I seriously getting into?"
The team leader hummed to himself in thought.
"Well, we're a surveying outfit off the Luminary Flyby. We take ticket jobs for human and San'Shyuum prospector offices that don't want to get their own hands dirty poking through the frontier holes-in-the-wall to find temporary resource colonies for set up. We do intrusion into all sorts of worlds, not just Forerunners but they do pay the biggest return. We spoof the security systems of the interstellar powers and temporary set up shop so those prospectors can build their projects and retrieve the resources that the Ecumene refuse to let enter the free market."
Ardeau looked like he was frowning somewhat at this point.
They have hundreds of worlds like these that they label as 'preserves', entire worlds, and systems preventing use at the edge of their empire's dominion. Eventually, the security ships come knocking and they kick the prospectors out, very clinical. No one throws a fuss and the market chugs along. We get a cut and a surveying/setup return out of doing these jobs."
"And what about Carina? Domain-tap? What's that?"
"Well, have you ever heard of the Domain?"
"No," Tomei admitted, glancing back into the Forerunner tower's interior, expecting the team to be back anytime soon.
"Well think of it this way. The Domain is an ancient network that intersects the galaxy in information tendrils. It's a Forerunner virtual installation that is essentially exclusive to them and has a living memory beyond this period of galactic civil stability. The Forerunners use it for all their activities, including security management. There are humans, typically the younger folk that can work their talented brains in becoming acclimated to the Domain's systems, essentially mimicking the necessary neural facilities to a Forerunner imprint and break-in. Carina is one, and why we call her a wiretapper."
"Can anyone become one, Ard?"
"Yeah, it's not a selective ability – just difficult. Younger folk adapt to it better so it's why we got Carina here. She accesses the network and modifies the planetary node, so the Forerunners turn a blind eye to this place for a good while. And then, profit."
Tomei twisted an interesting look on his face.
"You thinking about being one?"
"It sounds interesting – different. Plus I'm young and stuff, and I've had my fair share of breaking rules and going places I'm not supposed to."
"That is the right mindset. Maybe you can become one, just keep it in mind. We got Carina off another survey outfit, so she didn't start with us. If she warms up to you, maybe she could help show you the ropes."
"She didn't seem too fond of me back when she picked me up at the spaceport."
Ardeau chuckled. "She's one fire-blooded little lady. Don't let it bother you, she's got a spitfire in her – I see that as an asset, keeps scammers and fee collectors off our back when we make landing calls."
Tomei mumbled quietly at that. "I've seen it."
Ardeau only nodded once more, a small smile gracing his lips as the two fell quiet and returned to properly enjoy the Forerunner-cut landscape before them.
On occasion, their radios would crackle with reports from Grounder on Carina's progress in assimilating into and modifying the security systems for this preserve world. Good progress, if only, slow.
Little by little Tomei started to settle into this model. Ardeau and his crew made it look easy, and for the new blood he could imagine himself in on this. He could even say he was enjoying it.
Then he sneezed.
Two minutes later, and he sneezed again.
A minute after that, Tomei sneezed once more.
Ardeau coughed once. Then twice.
The team leader grew rigid, leaning up from his relaxed lay in the grass.
Tomei glanced over at Ardeau and wanted to ask what was wrong, instead, he opened his mouth and he received the urge to gag. Something felt heavy in his throat. Something felt sticky in his mouth and his nose felt stuffed.
"Uh… Ard," Tomei coughed. "Is-is something going on?"
Ardeau brought up his scanner and tipped the air with a scan. The hardened look on his face screwed further into a full-on scowl.
"What is it?"
"Put your visor back on. Take a sip from your bladder, then spit it onto your mask – your suit will recycle it. The rest will process out of your system naturally."
"What are-are, are you talking about?"
Ardeau got up and yanked his mask over his head; he ordered again. "Get it on now!"
Scrambling, Tomei did as he was instructed. He slipped on the mask, took a sip of water, and spit it into the absorption layer of his suit interior.
Warning lights flashed on his Heads-Up Display, marking a high concentration of metallic elements in the spit. And in the air.
Ardeau radioed the rest of the team, "Get back to the front – this op is compromised. We need to get clear of the tower now. Remhu, drop a disruptor at the entryway. I'll leave you guys a waymarker – the new club and I are breaking for the tree line."
An acknowledgment from the munitions packer came back with a quick "affirmative" and whatever excitement was set into motion. Ardeau looked to be in a frenzy. He grabbed Tomei by the shoulder and pushed him up and forward, prompting them both into a hazardous jog down the tower's gentle slope.
Tomei freaked, not processing what was taking place but he could put hints and theories together. Metals in the air. Coughing, sneezing. Air contagion or irritant of some sort?
"Did we trip a passive defense or something?"
Ardeau responded with an ambiguous "worse."
The two men slid into the first blue-green-colored groves at a frantic pace. For their sprint, Ardeau never let go of Tomei's shoulder and proceeded to force down the youth when they slid into the plant-based shade.
"Flyby-Overwatch, come in."
Static crackled over Ardeau's tight beam call to the Luminary Flyby.
"Damn it. We've been caught."
Tomei struggled to catch on. "What? By whom?"
"Warrior-Servants."
There were many things that Tomei did not know about Forerunners but even a child knew the name of their infamous military arm. The Ecumene's military order.
"I thought you said at worse it would be Builder or Lifeworker Security…"
Ardeau glanced at the young one. "Club. Keep your mouth shut except for callouts. Keep your head and gun on a swivel. This is a textbook encounter – we're in an ambush."
Tomei's blood ran cold. Ambush. By Forerunner Warrior-Servants.
They were going to die.
The first sounds of battle came from the tower. Clacking boots against obsidian and smart matter floors signaled the approach of the others, Remhu at the head lugging a munitions pack just a tad lighter based on his running pace.
Crackles of lightning and flashes of blue, white, and the deepest black erupted from the dark interior of the Forerunner frequency tower. Slipspace portals.
Mechanical, humanoid shapes emerged from the dark holes in spacetime. Their features proved angular, floaty, and distinctly military. The Warrior-Servant's first wave, Ardeau called them out. "Automatons, in the entryway. Remhu, did you set the—"
"I got it, Ard!"
A flash of brilliant white crashed through the shadowy entryway, enveloping the Forerunner warrior-bots. Through the crackling light, Slipspace portals were still evident, whipping and flaking like violent torrents of sub-reality. The emerging machines tried to clear their portals, but many proved unlucky – the flash intensified and the hard thumps of collapsing Slipspace portals overcame the explosive opening action of the fight. The disruptor did its job, destabilizing the pinpoint portals and swallowing whole their users.
"Good work, but we got no contact with Overwatch. Carina, I need options – where can we find a ground side portal array?" Ardeau yelled as the four other teammates joined their security at the grove's edge.
"Ard… I—closest one would be a field's distance to the east? At least that's my best guess based on my brief look in the map array inside."
"Good enough – Grounder, take point. We're moving now."
Ardeau grabbed Tomei by his vest collar and propped him to a stand. Motioning, Grounder took point and they carelessly sprinted into the underbrush. There was no room to wait, they were so dead.
That cry of shock and defeat screamed in Tomei's mind. It continued to ring like a chant – death for him, death for his new friends. They were going to die.
"Tomei. Head in the game, I can see your neural pathways are fluctuating."
"Sorry Ard," Tomei winced.
"Don't apologize – just keep moving and if you see a silvery bastard – put a round through his chest."
"What was that metal stuff in the air?"
"Smart matter. Ubiquitous Forerunner nanomachine tech, it's in all their stuff but the Warrior-Servants use it for battle."
"I got Forerunner bots inside me?"
Tomei almost wanted to stop and puke on the spot. Remhu grabbed him from the back before his legs could even slip into such a scenario. The munitions carrier spoke up, "Don't worry about it – the stuff is harmless and will filter out of your system over the next couple days. But they're a great way to track targets when ingested in high concentrations."
Ardeau grumbled from the middle of the running column. "Sorry club. I got complacent. You have good instincts, being concerned about me earlier."
That didn't improve Tomei's mood one bit, Carina's remarks only made things worse. "I needed to take off my visor to interface with their network. I'm in trouble too."
"So? This is it? We run, or we die?"
Tengou nodded from the side. Without speaking, the shuffling and crunched-forward posture of his while running spoke of how on edge the other muscle was.
"Pulses front! Hold fast," Grounder called out as metallic-orange objects flew out from behind trees.
The pulse grenades, six-count, tapped against the ground and burst into overwhelming balls of swirling hardlight fields.
"Crap. Go around. Around!" Carina called, pointing to the left of the obstruction wall that formed and the new wave of automatons, followed by orange-clad humanoids – the flesh-and-blood Warrior-Servants on approach.
Remhu's rifle crackled with the sound of hardlight-tipped rocket rounds. Behind him, Tengou attempted to toss another grenade at the assaulting Forerunner combat machines.
The human vaporization grenade missed as the automatons flashed out of semi-existence, becoming fast-moving smart matter clumps, and zipped out of range of the grenade.
These machine clusters flashed and whirred, sliding into the space that Carina tried to direct them in.
Caught at the near-front of the startled column, Tomei felt his rifle lay heavy in his sweaty palms but as time seemed to slow, his crosshairs found the perfect line up with a half-materializing Warrior-Servant automaton.
He pulled the trigger thrice in quick succession. While not an expert marksman, the rifle's auto-aim feature covered the skill gap. The hardlight-tipped slugs found their mark and before the automaton could reform, precise holes punched through its swarm-like form fractalized into a deep orange before exploding into glittering light.
A second automaton attempted a similar rush only to catch two rounds from Carina's rifle and another three from Tomei.
For all his inexperience, even Tomei could tell, he kept up with the others. A small part of him swelled with hope – that he would survive. He could make a match for the Forerunner's military arm.
The screams of battle raged on around the sprinting column as they went, landing the occasional kill on aggressive, ghosting automatons trying to get ahead. The Warrior-Servants themselves, obscure figures clad in orange-silver-toned armor and standing at heights above average humans, seemed to keep their distance. Their only present signature came in the form of hardlight bolts striking trees and the forest floor beneath them.
Ardeau screamed for his team to keep running. Remhu threw another disruptor as a glance back told Tomei that at least twenty automatons joined the pursuit. Grounder zigzagged through the trees, tall and fallen alike. Somehow, her footwork never missed a beat and they danced through the forest battle unharmed.
Their team was good. Tomei didn't just feel hope; he felt confident.
At the swell of his battle pride, he caught the sound of Ardeau's nearby mutterings, "They're shepherding us…"
Wait? What did the team leader know? What intuition did he have now?
Tomei didn't ask, as told but he ran and tried to put together his environment. Picking through the cryptic words and the manner of the fight playing out. His rifle coughed twice more, narrowly hitting an automaton hanging from a tree to his two o'clock orientation.
Shepherding. To steer, guide, corral. The Warrior-Servants kept their distance, letting their battle-bots do the hard work of fighting and absorbing hits from the human team. Their grenades led the team off course – not only; they were distinctly going downhill.
"Ambush…" the word slipped from Tomei's lips. The hope died there.
The quiet roar of a running creek could be heard ahead beneath the screams of hardlight gunfire. A few steps more downhill and Tomei could make out the ankle-deep rush, lined by granite walls, fallen logs, and even deeper greenery. A shallow waterfall joined the depressed landmark ensemble.
Grounder's boots were the first to touch the water, splashing over water-smoothed stone below the intense watery surface. Carina stabilized the older woman when a boot slipped but the sprint did not stop; Tomei hit the water and kept moving – only paying some mind to his footwork in the frenzy.
He saw silver in that water. At first, he didn't make much mind of it, but something felt off about it. Like staring at the reflection of a river fish that wasn't there.
The warning intended to leave Tomei's lips didn't catch air as a dripping-wet, automaton-like form burst forth from beneath the creek bed. It went for Ardeau, taking the stalky human to the water in a surprise tackle.
More automatons burst forth from the creek bed, hardlight spears and polearms drawn and at the ready with swarms of smart matter swarming around their forms.
"Cavaliers!" Carina called out, breathless as she attempted to push Grounder up the low hill in front of them. More automaton regulars forged themselves in place, blocking the intended path to the portal array station. One formulated exceptionally close, coming into Grounder's face and relinquishing parts of its metal head to reveal a holographic Forerunner skull underneath. The battle-bot screamed like knives-against-glass, startling the pathfinder and sending her tumbling.
Grounder crashed into Carina, forcing the two women down into the water. Nearby, Ardeau wrestled one Cavalier in a deeper end of the creek. Tomei's rifle drifted between the great field of targets surrounding his team's depressed position. Tengou leaped from above, late to the party, and fired his rifle. Taking down a single automaton, before another one – ape-like in shape, grabbed at his wrists and rifle and too dragged him into the creek for a wrestling match.
The automatons screeched and pressed into the group, but their weapons were kept low. Ten at the front, three to the left, one on the right. Four to the back.
"Disruptor!" Remhu warned, lobbing a brick-like smart explosive at the forward, ten automatons. The machines scattered into swarm matter at the weapon's physical signature, but a Cavalier acted quick, extending its inert-ended polearm, and batting the disruptor like a baseball before it could cook-off. The swing flew accurate but wide, slashing Remhu's arm clean off to his bewildered holler of pain. Another automaton flashed into place down at the end of the river, catching the weapon just as it detonated.
Shocks ran through the air, a great blinding light flashed into the forest and creek with a wailing bang. All that Tomei and his team knew was swallowed by the flashbang, sending them all tumbling into the drink.
Tomei felt numb, weightless – his feet vaguely felt ground beneath him, but the incline and direction were unknown to him leaving his blind body and mind whirling like a seesaw.
Something harsh and metallic grabbed his shoulders violently and pushed Tomei headfirst into the water. That was it, the last thing he knew as the sounds of battle died down into this white nothing after-image that still refused to resolve.
Echoing metal thumps and the sounds of splashing were the first things Tomei registered once his haze cleared and he came to. His bare skin registered the low whistling and humid air of the atmosphere and the creek beneath him.
Silvery forms shivered in wait, watching the kneeling and squat humans lined up in the creek bed. The glow of orange-tinted rifles was more than apparent, directed to the human team's heads and torsos. The team's visors had all been removed and the rapid, blinking and confused faces of his team met Tomei's vision upon an initial scan.
Grounder looked purple-skinned and half-asleep. The run took everything out of her given her stature poorly-equipped for sprints.
Carina stared down the Warrior-Servants and machines gathered around the creek and in the creek bed with them. She seemed the most articulate, most awake, and by far most angry. She eyed one of the Warrior-Servants strolling down the line, standing closest to the new captures, face turned away from Tomei.
Tengou kneeled nearby still blinking, not free from his flashbang spell but leaning into a wounded Remhu who had the terrible or fortunate fate of an automaton holding him up while clutching down on the bloodied stump of a forearm. At least the Forerunners seemed to be familiar with human biology and what appeared to be a basic grasp of medical triage?
Ardeau caught Tomei's eyes and gave the youth a careful, grim smile – it wasn't reassuring but it attempted to put on a mask of 'it will be alright'.
Tomei focused on the pacing Forerunner Warrior-Servant. At least Tomei assumed that was the case. Unlike the automatons and other Warrior-Servants, this one did not hide its face from the world behind crystal-like helmets or menacing-looking faceplates.
The pacer also spoke a smooth human standard dialect as well as any human-borne.
"Trespassing. Tampering. Attempt to obstruct capture. Intent to use Ecumene property without authority. Acting beyond your capacity or measure. Quite the list of criminal acts for one single afternoon."
Tomei felt the sneaking suspicion that the marshals back on his homeworld and this Forerunner would get along swimmingly. The alien behemoth, standing at near-eight feet tall, turned about-face and the youth got his first proper look at the creature.
A body of muscle and metal with curvature accentuating a warfighter's form. No visible weapons on his body but that didn't say some existed in the recesses of the form-fitting combat skin. Forerunners and their technology were effortlessly malleable, everything about their culture and being transforming and modifiable just as the galaxy they claimed to tend.
To human standards, Tomei remarked in his mind how rather ugly the Warrior-Servant looked. A bulbous, flat face akin to a fish or herd animal. Wide, unrevealing human-like eyes. Quill-like fibered hair crests. Orange sockets that could be akin to ears or gills.
Not how Tomei imagined the Forerunners appeared, but he was certain now that every flesh-and-blood Warrior-Servant looked the same under those unrevealing helmets. Their stoic stances and statue-like veneer just seemed to call out to him, telling him that they were a uniform, unimaginative society.
Maybe he was wrong, but they certainly played the part of a uniform group.
Ardeau spoke up, quippy but with a straight face. "I apologize, my team and I were just passing through. Things got heated in a complicated moment."
"You manage human sarcasm rather well, Ardeau Forged-Keep Gordo."
"And I hear your kind is incapable of it, Mister Warrior-Servant."
"Continuing with this charade will not earn you partiality with my kind."
The eldest of the human group seemed to only smile with more venom. "Aw? Can't handle a little human humor, flat face?"
The tall Warrior-Servant stopped to look down at Ardeau, giving him a scrutinizing twice-over. Still, with those human-like eyes, it was impractical to read his expression. The Forerunner's jaw and joint muscles didn't even budge.
After a moment or more passed, the Forerunner retreated from his closeness with Ardeau's group. Tomei continued to watch in fearful interest – what now? Were they to die here for trespassing or any of those other crimes?
All those grand designs that Ardeau promises from earlier in the day were now up in the air. That future, now impossible.
Still, the way the Forerunner spoke was curious to him. Enough so that a cautious, hesitant young man like Tomei would speak up without second consideration.
"How do you know his name?"
The unmasked Forerunner looked down the line to Tomei, his ugly face approaching as ever.
"The same reason we know everything, young Tomei-with-no-peoples-to-call-his-own. The Domain. The Silent Garden, my Warrior-Servant's passive invasion networks, are interlinked into the lesser orders across the galaxy. We are tapped into it all. Given your field commander's past career as a commando – I'm surprised by how lax he's been about probing his ship for Silent Garden nodes."
Ardeau looked hard at the creek bed without a word.
"Silent Garden…? You knew we were coming this entire time?"
The Forerunner gave a soft huffing noise, maybe their equivalent to laughter. "We knew who you were before you set foot on their ship. We know about your life as a colonial hoodlum. We know of Miss Carina's talented work as a transfer cadet in the San'Shyuum fleets. Or how Grounder is not your 'pathfinder's' real name. We knew you were coming long in advance."
Tomei grew silent as his team on the line bristled or shivered in disgust at the proclamations being thrown around by the Warrior-Servant commander as if trivial. He continued to speak.
"I tell you this, youngling – in hopes that you understand the grand disorder you and your fellows have attempted. We will undo the damage and appropriately dissuade you from further infractions. After all, Tomei-with-no-peoples-to-call-his-own, you and your like are the future of your species. Better to learn lessons young while you still have your youth and room to develop experience and understanding of your place in this galaxy."
Tengou chuckled at that notion, finally cleared of his flashbang spell. The Forerunner glanced over to him but didn't shift his footing.
"Hold those jaws, 'reclaimer'," the Forerunner growled. "I know of your hate, Mister Tengou, your history with the human-Precursor cult. Keep your notions to yourself and your revulsions for reality deeper down. Those who deny reality are the ones quickest to leave this mortal coil."
The grimace on Tengou's face only grew further but his soft laughter subsided into silence.
"If I were a less-forgiving foe, I would take more than just the arm of your bravest. It is unfortunate but so is the nature of battle – your kind's technology can nicely make up for such inadequacies so I will not dwell on it much more. Commando-Ardeau, I feel a particular distaste for you – slayer of Forerunner warriors and innocents alike, but that was another lifetime ago."
"That dislike is mutual, screw," the human leader responded in kind, soft but terse.
The Forerunner nodded at the remark. "I will let you off this once, with this one and only warning. Let your San'Shyuum benefactors know – Ecumene territory is off-limits to all unless with a permit. We will send you on your way and your ship's Slipspace signature will be logged – in the event, you try to enter this sector again – you will be shot down by our border installations. And death more so if further warnings are ignored."
A long shadow passed overhead, shading the local star's warming light. Long, angular, the size of planetoids – a Forerunner patrol ship. Against the glint of the Luminary Flyby, it was a scale comparison of impossible notions. The human ship was a spec to the might of the Ecumene's naval prowess.
An automaton warbled nearby, catching the Warrior-Servant commander's attention. It's robotic face plate twisted and transformed, revealing a holographic formation beneath the artifice. The hologram twisted as swell, taking up more feminine facial features even though alien. A female Forerunner face, Tomei with some vague hesitation could admit to himself that it was borderline attractive.
The hologram spoke up, apparently with its universal-speech still on. "Sundered-Star, I see you've secured the trespassers. Bring them up, we've got another illegal crossing in two systems over to deal with. We've secured this group's starship so we should send them on their way and we'll head out too."
The Forerunner commander, denoted as Sundered-Star, replied curtly. "Of course, I'll wrap this up promptly."
The feminine hologram nodded and refracted back into the shape of an automaton interior without another word.
"Send them up," Sundered-Star ordered, pointing to the line of human prisoners.
One by one, Slipspace portals popped into existence around the humans, starting down the line from Carina and moving towards Tomei at the other end.
As Grounder was finally absorbed, leaving Tomei the last human along the creek bed – Sundered-Star stopped the retrieval for a final word.
"Young one. Understand your place in this galaxy. Do not seek what is not yours and what you are incapable of having. The Mantle shelters all who live by that understanding. Selfishness is the downfall of stability – I hope you can one day accept this lesson fully. Until such a day comes, do what you can to live a fulfilling life. Teach your future young the same."
Sundered-Star turned away from Tomei, leaving the young human male in the creek. The damp feeling soon disappeared as a Slipspace portal blossom forth, engulfing him. The last thing Tomei knew of this preserve world was the darkness between dimensions.
Category:Stories
Category:Short stories