The wheel no longer corresponds to the images I recall of a bleak and broken thing, of bare bones and rendered flesh, of mist and misery. Gone are the abandoned cities, the wrecked stations, and the great rifts. The crashed ships, the burns and brunt of the civil war that raged between the Forerunners who opposed the Master Builder’s unethical human experiments and then Mendicant Bias and the Primordial’s control.
Those barren stretches of exposed and twisted substructure, of scorched earth and toppled towers, have been swallowed up by a hundred thousand years of ecological growth and change. All the pain and suffering lies forgotten, smoothed over by time, hidden by pristine, inviting, and even beautiful topography.
As Gyre 11, one of the original twelve rings created by the Master Builder, the construct had once boasted a diameter of thirty thousand kilometers with an intense directed-energy firing cone of cross-phased supermassive neutrino bursts capable of annihilating any neurologically complex living organisms—animals, plants, trees…
On the ancient human planet Faun Hakkor, I saw firsthand the utter loss of life down to the creatures in the seas, to great swaths of collective, symbiotic forests and mycorrhizal networks.
Zeta Halo is the only remaining ring from the Senescent Array. In the last days of the Forerunner-Flood War, it was rescued from near collision and repurposed to one-third of its former diameter and included among a new Halo Array created by the lesser Ark—those smaller rings created in secret and eventually used as a final means to eradicate the Flood.
Zeta, though it appears similar to its counterparts, is what my human companions might refer to as a proverbial black sheep. It still bears elements of its archaic design, still holds within its soil and dust and stone the remnants of lost cities and settlements, generation after generation of humans living and evolving and forming complex civilizations.
Seeing the scars healed over does not bring me comfort or peace. Instead, the images settle in me like a thorn lodged in bone.
No amount of time can ease the horror of my captivity here. I do not forget. I do not forgive. Deep in the substructure of this Halo, I lost my humanity and became Forerunner. I remember because I must and because a thousand centuries later, I am still furious.
“Are you sure about this?” Rion is now asking me. She stands at the holotable, her hands clasped behind her back.
She knows my tale. They all do. The care and concern on their faces tells me they will support whatever decision I make. This power both humbles and frightens me. Friendship is a rare commodity indeed.
“I am certain, Captain,” I assure her. The story has not ended. “Our path is quite clear.”
With a sharp nod, she turns her attention to the holograph. “Where do we begin?”
The crew swivels in their station chairs to listen intently to my findings. I have built a holo image of Zeta Halo above the table. Already having made my examination and calculations, I bring forth a section for the crew’s inspection. “I believe this is where we will start.” The enhanced LIDAR scans have penetrated growth and sediment to reveal the shape of the land beneath, and I have recognized the area.
“This dry valley was once a river.” I increase the view to show a wide valley framed by sheer gray cliffs. I move the blueprint along the valley to its end, where a stark cliff rises vertically by nearly a hundred meters. “There was once a waterfall here, fed by a lake.” Above the cliff, the area widens out into an ancient lake basin. “There.” I point to the center of the basin.
Rion leans in. “What is that?”
“It looks like a crater,” Lessa says.
“More or less. It appears small from our current view, but it is twenty-six meters in diameter and leads into Zeta’s substructure.” I move out of the LIDAR scan and into a pleasing satellite image.
I did love my beautiful ring; that this one should look so similar to Installation 04 fills me with sudden sadness and irritation and intense envy.
I must, however, ignore these emotions.
“The basin is covered with vegetation. I propose we cut through and settle the ship directly inside the ring.” From their expressions, it is clear no one has expected such a proposal.
“Inside the Halo,” Niko dubiously repeats. “You want us to fly into it.”
“Yes. That is what I just said. It is the quickest and safest place to land, keeping us clear of any activity on the surface. There are approximately 3,416 humans currently on the ring. Four hundred and six of those are scientists from many different subgroups of study, while the remaining are military. I have detected several hundred human drones working across the ring’s surface, scanning and recording, mapping the surface and looking for control centers and power sources.”
“Aboveground, we know what’s out there. Going underground,” Ram says, “how can we be sure it’s any safer?”
“Right,” Niko adds. “There must be thousands of workers inside keeping the ring operational. It must be dozens of kilometers deep. That’s like a whole other world down there.”
“Most of the constructs within the foundation are Sentinels. They come in a variety of sizes and functions.”
“And why would they be safer than the humans on the surface?” Rion questions. “And what about the monitor in charge?”
While their queries border on tedious, I practice patience. “The monitor of this ring does not appear to be functioning in its intended capacity, which is why its defensive forces have not made an appearance. According to my data, there has been no reaction to the presence of human activity, which has been continuous since 2555. If it was going to protect this ring or direct an attack, it would have done so by now.”
There was a time during my own tenure as monitor of Installation 04 that I attempted to contact this ring’s monitor, Despondent Pyre. Even then, it did not respond. Now that my human memories have returned, I must wonder if perhaps its intended directive was different from mine and the other monitors’. After all, Bornstellar did send this ring to its firing location with the intent that it should be a tomb for all those who died throughout its horrific past; that it should remain hidden in the mists of time, lost and forgotten.
“All right,” Rion says decisively. “Let’s make a flight plan and then deep scan our path to see what’s in the area and what we need to avoid.”
“Aye, Cap.” Lessa turns back to the navigation console.
It is entirely unnecessary.
“The navigation plan is already completed,” I tell them. “The closest military camp is thirty kilometers off our entry zone. Two drones are estimated to approach our projected path in approximately twenty-three hours. The closest science base to the basin is twelve kilometers off, and their latest excursions have gotten them as close to four kilometers from the valley. If they continue on this path, they will encounter a relay station, which will keep them occupied for several days or possibly weeks.”
The crew stares at me with a look I am all too familiar with. “I have overstepped.” We each have functions on the ship, of which I am aware, and yet how can I help myself?
Ram chuckles and returns to his display. Lessa and Rion share a smile between them, and Niko is shaking his head. “Man, you haven’t overstepped—you’ve leaped over the goddamn valley.” He is now wearing a wide grin. “No worries, Spark. We get it. This is your op, and it’s personal.”
Yes. I suppose that’s one way to put it.