Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [110]
So she waited.
And she waited.
And she waited.
She took the latest wad of gum from her mouth, thumbed it on the dash, and froze when two figures lurched into the light on the feed. Her thumb sticking to the gum, she yanked free and gripped her pistol. Don’t you lay a hand on my bird, Covie scum. I’ll hole you, I’ll hole you a hundred times over.
Then she looked closer. It was Cranker and Maller. They were stumbling, injured. Head wounds, it looked like, dark patches running down their faces, torn clothing, and they were leaning into each other, but they were walking. Alive!
The relief that washed over Burgundy was so intense she almost cried.
“Oh thank Christ.”
They clearly needed help. She’d not thought much of them—loud and rowdy and pushy in the mess line—but here, now, it didn’t matter, they were the most excellent human beings in the universe. She wouldn’t be alone now.
She slapped the controls for the gangplank and vaulted out of the cockpit, snatching up an assault rifle from the locker as she passed. The ramp opened too damn slow. She ran to the lip as it lowered, checking the nearby barricades and containers for any other movement.
“Guys!” she hissed. “Get on in here! Now!”
Up close they were worse than they looked on the cameras, Cranker listing badly now, Maller pivoting toward the sound of her voice, the ramp dropping, dropping.
“You’re—”
Much worse. Much, much worse.
Skin mottled and bruised and sunken, veined through with dark tendrils. Eyes white and unseeing. Some growth fastened to Cranker’s neck, an enormous pustule that shivered and twitched. Maller, what had been Maller, opened his mouth, and howled, a sound no human could make.
Burgundy scrambled back, opened fire.
But it was too late.
>Benti 1450 hours
When they found that the hatch to the lower deck was also locked, Benti let loose with a stunning stream of curses that left them all looking at her like they didn’t know her anymore. Except for Orlav.
“We got a Plan B?” is all Orlav asked.
This being-in-charge thing was wearing thin. Benti wished, not for the first time, that she was back on the Red Horse taking a nice bath.
“This was Plan B,” Benti said. And Plan C, if you wanted to be precise. They’d lost contact with Lopez, and Benti wasn’t sure they’d get it back any time soon. Hailing the Pelican had become a kind of personal joke that gave her the giggles. Didn’t know if she really found it funny or was just becoming hysterical. Hellooo Pelican, come in, come in? No? Okay. You just be that way, you petulant bird.
Clarence shrugged and started back down the corridor.
“Hang on, just wait, I’ll find another way.” Orlav’s frown deepened, clearly sick of peering at the tiny screen.
Benti shouldered her rifle and knelt by the hatch. The access panel wasn’t secured. She flipped the panel open, gave it a once-over, and pulled a knife from her boot. Being a medic wasn’t all she was good at.
“Shine your light down here. Thanks.” It wasn’t so complicated. A little tricky, but nothing she hadn’t done before. Just expose this wire, strip back this one and put a bridge here, and—
The hatchway unlocked with a sharp clack and she hauled it open. Triumphant.
But only for a second.
“Pheeeoooow!” They cringed away from the stench that came billowing out, the air thicker and moist in the worst possible way. “Bilges. They’re the same in every ship.”
“Foucault would be pissed to hear you say that about the Red Horse.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t here,” Gersten said, and swung himself onto the ladder, Orlav and Clarence leaning into the hatchway to provide cover.
“See anything?”
“Yep. Looks like bilges, smells like bilges . . . I think it’s bilges!”
Benti hadn’t expected Gersten to turn into a comedian. She rolled her eyes and dropped down after Gersten. “No shit.”
“Oh, we got shit a-plenty here. Special price for you.”
Wow. It wasn’t going to stop.
The