The camp was designed to blend in with the forest, syncamo tents shivering with reactive images of leaves and vines. Up close, everything looked warped, as if reality had shattered like a mirror. But Saskia knew that this kind of camouflage was meant to deter aerial surveillance. From up above, nothing would look unusual. A few years ago, her parents had been developing similar technology, trying to find a way to mask heat signatures to complement the visual disguise.

A face peered out from one of the larger tents, a man with dark skin and a few days’ growth of beard. “You find the rest of them?” he asked, stepping out into the open. He wore a drab Meridian military uniform, a rifle strapped to his back.

“Yes, sir.” Owen stopped, looked over at Dorian and Saskia. “This is Commander Marechal. He’s overseeing the operation here in Brume-sur-Mer.”

Saskia snapped to attention, and Dorian trailed behind a few beats later.

“At ease.” Commander Marechal gave a half-hearted smile. “You kids know as much as ONI claims you do?”

Saskia glanced over at Dorian, unsure how to answer. Dorian frowned.

“These kids led over two hundred evacuees out of Covenant-occupied territory,” Owen said. “Their knowledge of the terrain is unsurpassed … and they’re not bad in a fight either.”

Commander Marechal nodded, ducked back inside the tent.

“Some welcome,” Dorian muttered.

“Marechal is your commander. He was one of the most decorated officers in the Meridian Special Forces,” Owen said. “Be respectful.”

Dorian glanced at Saskia and rolled his eyes.

Owen led them to a tent at the edge of the camp. “You’ll be staying here,” he said, pulling open the flap. Evie and Victor were both inside—Victor sprawled out on one of the cots, Evie staring down at a comm pad.

“Recovered the rest of the team,” Owen said.

Evie glanced up and a smile broke out across her face. “Oh, thank god!” she cried, tossing the comm aside. She rushed over and threw her arms around Saskia, then Dorian. “I was really worried when I didn’t see you. Victor and I landed fairly close to each other—”

“We were a bit off course,” Saskia said. “I’m so glad you made it through okay.”

Evie laughed. “Yeah, me too. I never thought for a second when we did that training that we’d actually wind up in one of those things.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Saskia smiled.

Victor ambled over to them, hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m glad you came through okay.” He wasn’t exactly looking at Saskia, but she knew he was talking to her. He kicked at the floor. “I didn’t think it was as bad as the simulation made it sound.”

Dorian snorted.

“Get settled,” Owen said. “Claim a cot, unload your supplies. I want to see all four of you at the camp center in five minutes.” Then he ducked out of the tent.

Saskia took a deep breath and sank down on the cot next to Evie’s. She dropped her bag and her weapon to the ground, letting herself ignore protocol as she collected her thoughts. Part of her was still shaking from the descent in the drop pod. She wasn’t sure it would ever stop shaking.

“How long have you been here?” Dorian asked, slinging his own bag onto the remaining cot.

“Not long,” Evie answered. “Maybe twenty minutes.”

“Owen won’t tell us anything,” Victor said. “Said we had to wait for you two.”

“I’m sure he’s about to,” Saskia said, staring up at the tent’s green fabric fluttering overhead. The reactive camouflage flickered faintly on the other side. It was a far cry from their base of operations before. She wondered what had happened to her house. If the Covenant had rolled through and turned it to rubble.

The possibility didn’t make her as sad as she thought it should.

She kicked herself up to standing and stepped out of the tent. The camp seemed quiet. Small. The mission brief she’d read had been, well … brief, but it had said there were seventy-five soldiers. Why didn’t this feel like seventy-five people?

She felt a hand on her shoulder—it was Evie, holding a hydration pack. “You should drink some water,” she said quietly. “It’ll help you calm down.”

Saskia smiled, and the shaking seemed to subside. She took a long drink, the water sweet and cold on her throat. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d been.

“We should head over to the briefing,” Evie said, and Saskia nodded. Together they walked through the gently blowing tents, the flash of artificial flora. The chatter of human voices drifted on the wind, and the camp seemed livelier than it had when Saskia and Dorian had arrived. People moved from tent to tent, all of them with the rough expressions of soldiers.

“Look at the uniforms,” Evie whispered. “Most of them are Meridian military. Very few are actually UNSC.”

They stepped into a clearing in the forest, a round patch of damp ferns beneath the outstretched branches of a rain tree. About fifty people were gathered, standing in loose clumps, all of them armed.

Saskia felt suddenly very bare, having left her rifle back at the tent.

Dorian and Victor clomped up beside her and Evie. “Finally going to find out what we’re here to do,” Victor said.

“We know what we’re here to do,” Dorian answered. “Stop the Covenant from getting that artifact they want so bad.”

Victor laughed. “Sure is taking them long enough, isn’t it?”

Saskia frowned. It was taking a long time. Which meant they must be scouring every centimeter of Brume-sur-Mer. Which meant they had to be close to finding whatever was there.

If it was there. Maybe the Covenant were just shredding Brume-sur-Mer for no reason. Maybe they’d give up and glass the moon before she and the others even had a chance to fight.

Commander Marechal stepped into the clearing and jumped up on one of the arching roots of the tree. His presence immediately quieted the soldiers.

“Our remaining members have finally joined us,” he said, voice soaring out through the clearing. Saskia wrapped her arms around her stomach as the crowd turned toward her, all those wary, appraising eyes.

“Look kind of young,” a woman called out.

A swell of faint laughter. Commander Marechal frowned and held up one hand. “Knock it off,” he said. “They’re the same age most of you were when you joined up.” He glanced at Owen, who was standing off to the side. “And the Spartan says they know what they’re doing.”

Owen nodded. “They can lead us through the terrain better than anyone.”

“He keeps mentioning that,” Victor said softly. “We can fight too.”

Evie nudged him, hissed at him to be quiet.

“This is what we know,” Commander Marechal said, and nodded at a serious-looking woman standing beside Owen, who immediately activated a holo map that shimmered in the air in front of the crowd. Saskia recognized the street layout of Brume-sur-Mer immediately, although half the map was blotted out by dark splotches—including the place where Saskia had led the survivors of the invasion out of the underground shelters a month ago.

“The Covenant is convinced there’s a Forerunner artifact somewhere in this area,” Commander Marechal said. “They have been drilling all over town and have not appeared to find anything yet, based on our surveillance intel. Our job is to find this artifact before they do and prevent them from reaching it.”

A hand went up. Commander Marechal nodded.

“How do we know there’s even an artifact here?”

Commander Marechal glanced at Owen. “You’re the ONI liaison.”

“We don’t. Not for certain,” Owen answered. “But the Covenant aren’t exactly wrong about these kinds of things. They have instruments capable of locating Forerunner artifacts, and when those machines target a location, the Covenant don’t stop until they find it. We’ve seen this play out repeatedly since the start of the war. It’s out there somewhere.”

Voices rose up in a mumble. Saskia kept staring at the map, looking at the places the Covenant had tried and failed to find the artifact. Downtown, of course. The high school. Several spots along the strip of public beach. She sighed.

“You will be going out in teams of four,” Commander Marechal continued. “Spartan Owen will explain the details.” He jumped down from the tree roots and stepped aside, Owen taking his place.

“Thank you, Commander.” Owen gazed out over the soldiers. “The teams will search the places the Covenant have not been to yet. Since the artifact is likely underground, we will be using the tunnel system. That’s where our latest arrivals come in.”

Once again, all eyes fixed on Saskia and the others. She gave a thin smile, heat rushing up to her cheeks.

“Brume-sur-Mer has an extensive underground shelter, as well as a series of service tunnels. The Covenant are aware of it but aren’t patrolling it in any way—after the escape a month ago, they did another sweep of the town, didn’t find anyone, and resumed their excavation efforts. That gives us a distinct advantage.” He nodded at Saskia and the others. “These four have been trained in reconnaissance and sabotage, and they know this area better than anyone here. They’ll be leading our teams through the tunnel system. The rest of you will be responsible for providing tactical and combat support while we’re searching for the artifact.”

Victor made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “He knows we can fight,” he said furiously.

“Be quiet,” Evie hissed. Saskia thought she looked relieved, though, that they were only here to serve as guides. Saskia knew she ought to be relieved too, but part of her was as disappointed as Victor. You couldn’t easily distinguish yourself in the military if you were just a guide. And if she didn’t do something of note, there was a chance that, when the UNSC found out about her parents’ less-than-legal activities, she’d be held responsible too.

Sometimes Saskia wondered if she should have told the UNSC the things she knew about her parents’ illegal weapons dealings, even though she had never been directly asked. But it was easier for her to dedicate herself to the UNSC and its mission. If the truth did come to light, and Saskia had proven her worth in the meantime, maybe the penalties wouldn’t be quite so harsh.

“First reconnaissance mission leaves tonight,” Owen said. “Flaherty, Rees, Zabinski, Latre: You’ll be heading out with Saskia Nazari as your guide.”

A spot on the map illuminated pale blue: the old tourist district, from back when the town still had tourists. Long before Saskia lived there.

“Intel says the Covenant are concentrating on this area,” Owen said. “You will be heading down into the shelter to learn what you can.” He nodded and the map vanished. “You leave in two hours. Dismissed.”

Saskia splashed through a few centimeters of muddy water, her high-ankled boots keeping her feet dry. It was the last vestiges of the flooding, although evidence of the flood hung heavy throughout the underground shelter. Black splotches grew along the cement walls, and the air stank of mold, even through the filter she wore. Every now and then their lights swept over a filthy stuffed bear, a pile of rotting clothes, a flyer for a concert. A reminder that people had been down here before the corridors flooded.

Saskia felt a tap on her shoulder; it was Flaherty, the team leader. She gazed down at Saskia over her filter. “How much farther?” she asked, her voice distorted.

Saskia took a deep breath, glancing up at the walls. The distance markers were faded, but she could just make out a dusty 4.

“A while,” she said, pointing. “About four kilometers to the next exit. Although I’m not sure where the Covenant are drilling exactly.”

Flaherty pressed her mouth into a thin line. “Which exit is it?”

“The one on Rue Coquillage,” Saskia said. Was that where Dorian’s band had played the night before the invasion? She knew it had been an entrance in the tourist district. But Rue Coquillage didn’t sound right. “Entrance seven on the maps.”

Flaherty nodded. “What’s above us right now?”

“Houses,” Saskia said. “Old tourist houses, so there should be service tunnels around here too, to take us off the main path.” If they hadn’t been destroyed. Dorian had pointed them out to her on the map even though they hadn’t been marked, said people like his uncle had used them back when tourists still stayed in town. It was a way to get repairs done without being seen. Of course, the service tunnels had been sealed when the Covenant invaded. If Salome, the town’s quirky AI, hadn’t sealed them, they could’ve been used to access the shelter during the attack three months ago. But thanks to Evie’s hacking skills, the tunnels were open again. She had gotten very good at working around Salome’s complicated programming directives during the invasion. Three months ago, she had helped them bust out the trapped survivors … in her own way, at least.

Flaherty’s eyebrows rose when Saskia mentioned the service tunnels. “Well, let’s find one.”

Saskia nodded and pushed forward through the grimy water. Her heart thudded. Why hadn’t Owen sent Dorian out as the first guide? He was the one with all the knowledge of the town’s layout. She hadn’t even lived in the town proper.

They continued on, the only sound the splashing of water. Saskia swept her eyes over the walls, looking for the symbol Dorian had drawn for her on his comm: a stylized oval that almost looked like a closed fist. It might have been close to the old insurrectionist symbol. Decades ago, Brume-sur-Mer had been a stronghold for the colony rebels who pushed back against the UNSC’s rule. But that was before humanity knew about the Covenant, and now the only thing that old symbol indicated was the location of a service tunnel.

Something flashed up ahead.

Saskia froze, lifting one fist to stop the others. She pulled her rifle around on its strap and held it tight.

Flaherty was at her side instantly, her own rifle pointed dead ahead. “I saw it too,” she murmured. She gestured to the others and they fanned out in formation. “Stay with me,” Flaherty told Saskia, and Saskia felt a rankle of annoyance; she had rescued two hundred people from these tunnels. She had even stopped an Elite from slaughtering them—more or less—on their way to the escape ship.

The team crept forward. Shadows slipped across the water.

Then there was the sudden burst of plasma fire, the tunnel filling with white light. Saskia flung herself up against the wall and fired into the light. Plasma bolts streaked past, exploding the wall into bursts of hot dust. She returned fire, and there was a strangled squawk and then the plasma fire stopped and the tunnel went dark again. Saskia blinked against the shadows.

“Everyone okay?” Flaherty asked.

A round of affirmations rang out. “I’m fine,” Saskia said, blinking straight ahead. Her night vision slowly crawled back to her.

“Good, keep moving forward,” Flaherty said. “Saskia, get behind me.”

“You don’t know where—”

Flaherty glared at her. “Get behind me. Look for the service tunnel entrance.”

“We need to check that it’s a clean kill,” one of the others called out. Saskia still didn’t know whose voice belonged to whom.

“It’s too dark down here to risk it,” Flaherty said. “It was likely just a Grunt. Stay alert and we should be fine. Now, let’s move.”

Saskia gripped her gun tightly as they proceeded deeper into the tunnel. She swept her eyes over the walls, desperate to find one of those service tunnel symbols—although if the Covenant were down here, they could easily have found them first. They could be excavating out of sight of ONI, and she and the rest of the team could walk straight into them.

Then she saw it, a pale smudge against the concrete. A flattened oval crossed with three diagonal lines.

“Wait,” she said. “Stop.” She couldn’t remember the proper terminology. She broke away from the formation before anyone could answer.

“What is it?” Zabinski asked. “We shouldn’t be stopping down here like this.”

“It’s a service tunnel,” Saskia said. “Like you asked me to find.” Except there was no entrance. No clear doorway. Just the symbol, barely visible beneath the encroaching mold.

Flaherty sighed. “I don’t see anything, Nazari.”

Suddenly, a loud, inhuman shriek tore through the tunnel, and the space filled again with blazing plasma light. A tall, avian figure raced toward them, screeching and hissing. A Jackal. It bounded through the water in wide, leaping strides. The team fired on it, but their bullets sputtered against the pale glow of its energy shield.

“Retreat!” shouted Flaherty, and Saskia immediately whirled around—only to find two more figures leaping toward them, their movements illuminated by their shields.

All of Saskia’s breath left her body.

“Pull in!” Flaherty screamed, and the others fell into a tight circular formation, firing upon the approaching Jackals. Saskia froze. All she could think of was one of her parents’ sales pitches she overhead once, their weapons laid out on the table in front of them as they shared the terrifying statistics on the likelihood of surviving a Covenant attack without the right weapons.

Statistics weren’t on their side right now.

Plasma streaked past Saskia’s head and she jerked down, her heart hammering. Then she looked over at the wall again. At the symbol. There had to be a way in. It was their only way out.

She pushed her rifle around to her back and dropped to her hands and knees. Desperate, she crawled over to the wall, feeling its surface for any kind of latch and opening. The shelters were old and low-tech; she doubted there would be any kind of holographic keypad or smart security system. But there had to be something.

Plasma fire erupted over her head. She pressed farther down into the water, hands fumbling over the wall, slick with water and mold.

Then she felt something. A faint indentation. When she pressed it, the wall groaned open, releasing a rush of muggy, musty air.

“This way!” Saskia screamed, ducking into the service tunnel. The stench of mold was worse in here, and something dark and wet peeled off the walls in thick strips. But it was clear the tunnel hadn’t been opened in ages, and that could only mean it would keep them safe from the Covenant.

“Move!” Flaherty shouted. “Go, go, go!” The others poured into the tunnel. Saskia pressed up against the wall, feeling around for another activation button—there. She slammed down on it as Flaherty rushed past her. The walls shuddered toward each other.

A Jackal leapt between them, firing off its rifle. Saskia screamed and returned fire, blowing dark indentations into the metal of the door. The Jackal snarled something at her and tried to lunge forward, but it was caught by the door. It shot another round at her, half-heartedly, before ducking back out into the main tunnel.

The door slammed shut.

They were plunged into darkness.

Then there was a click and a sphere of light materialized up ahead. One of the team—Rees? Zabinski?—had activated a light.

“Good work, Nazari,” Flaherty said, clapping one hand on Saskia’s shoulder. She gave a wavering smile that Saskia doubted anyone saw. “Now, is there a way to jam that door before the Jackals find their way in too?”

Saskia’s relief evaporated. Of course. The man with the light—it was Rees—came over to her side and held it up to the door. Saskia could just make out the screeches of the Jackals’ conversation on the other side.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Dorian’s the one who told me about the service tunnels.” Why hadn’t Owen just sent him? It made no sense.

“It was a mechanical latch,” said another member of the team. Latre, Saskia thought with a spark. She was an engineer for the Meridian Army. “Old-rebel-style. Give me a minute.” She pushed past Saskia and knelt down in front of the latch, frowning. The light bobbed over her head. The Jackals chattered outside the door.

Then Latre reached over and snapped the latch with a quick flick of her wrist. She stood up, turned to the others. Her face was hidden in shadows. “That should do it,” she said. “I’ll show you how once we’re back at camp. Could come in handy again.”

Almost immediately, a grinding sounded out from deep in the walls. Saskia froze, her heart pounding—but the door stayed put.

Latre grinned. “Told you. But that won’t hold them forever. They’ll try to blow their way in here next.”

Flaherty looked over at Saskia. “You know how to get us out of here?”

Saskia took a deep breath. “The service tunnels were used to maintain the old tourist houses,” she said.

Latre snorted. “And to smuggle Inny supplies, I imagine.”

“That was fifty years ago,” Flaherty snapped. “Saskia, go on.”

“This should lead us to one of the houses,” Saskia said. “I don’t know where exactly we’ll come out, though.”

“So we’ll need to be careful.” Flaherty lifted her rifle, stock gleaming in the halo of the light.

They set off into the tunnel. Saskia walked alongside Flaherty again, hoping that Dorian was right about the service tunnels. She wondered too about what Latre had said—if the tunnels had been used by the Insurrection, they probably went all over town, probably all the way out to the woods. She felt certain there was one that led to the hangar where they’d found the old Insurrectionist ship during the rescue.

She filed this information away to take to Dorian and the others. If they had to be guides, at least they could be good ones.