Part 9 (2/2)

Ensign Lovell had served on the UNSC frigateGorgon for four years. He had been promoted to First Lieutenant then busted down to Second Lieutenant and finally to Ensign for insubordination and gross incompetence. The only reason they hadn't drummed him out of the service was that the USNC needed every man and woman they could get their hands on. for four years. He had been promoted to First Lieutenant then busted down to Second Lieutenant and finally to Ensign for insubordination and gross incompetence. The only reason they hadn't drummed him out of the service was that the USNC needed every man and woman they could get their hands on.

While on theGorgon , he and the rest of Admiral Cole's fleet had sped among the Outer Colonies chasing, and being chased by, the Covenant. After four years' s.p.a.ce duty, Lovell had seen a dozen worlds gla.s.sed . . . and billions murdered. , he and the rest of Admiral Cole's fleet had sped among the Outer Colonies chasing, and being chased by, the Covenant. After four years' s.p.a.ce duty, Lovell had seen a dozen worlds gla.s.sed . . . and billions murdered.

He had simply broken under the strain. He closed his eyes and remembered. No he hadn't broken; he was just scared of dying like everyone else.

”Please keep your eyes open,” the computer told him. ”Processing retinal scan.”

He had drifted from office work to low-priority a.s.signments and finally landed here a year ago. By that time there were no more Outer Colonies. The Covenant had destroyed them all and were pressing inexorably inward, slowly taking the Inner Colonies. There had been a few isolated victories . . . but he knew it was only a matter of time before the aliens wiped the human race out of existence.

”Login complete,” the computer announced.

Ensign Lovell's ident.i.ty record was displayed on the monitor. In his Academy picture, he looked ten years younger: neatly trimmed jet-black hair, toothy grin, and sparkling green eyes. Today his hair was unkempt and the spark was long gone from his eyes.

”Please read General Order 098831A-1 before proceeding.”

The Ensign had memorized this stupid thing. But the computer would track his eye motions-make sure he read it anyway. He opened the file and it popped on-screen: United Nations s.p.a.ce Command Emergency Priority Order 098831A-1 Encryption Code:Red Public Key: Public Key:file /first light/ From: From:UNSC/NAVCOM Fleet H. T. Ward To: To:ALL UNSC PERSONNEL Subject: Subject:General Order 098831A-1 (”The Cole Protocol”) Cla.s.sification: Cla.s.sification:RESTRICTED (BGX Directive) The Cole Protocol To safeguard the Inner Colonies and Earth, all UNSC vessels or stations must not be captured with intact navigation databases that may lead Covenant forces to human civilian population centers.

Ifany Covenant forces are detected: Covenant forces are detected: 1. Activate selective purge of databases on all s.h.i.+p-based and planetary data networks.

2. Initiate triple-screen check to ensure all data has been erased and all backups neutralized.

3. Execute viral data scavengers. (Download from fbr.091) 4. If retreating from Covenant forces, all s.h.i.+ps must enter Slipstream s.p.a.ce with randomized vectors NOT directed toward Earth, the Inner Colonies, or any other human population center.

5. In case of imminent capture by Covenant forces, all UNSC s.h.i.+ps MUST self-destruct.

Violation of this directive will be considered an act of TREASON, and pursuant to USNC Military Law Articles JAG 845-P and JAG 7556-L, such violations are punishable by life imprisonment or execution. /end file/ PressENTER if you understand these orders. Ensign Lovell pressed ENTER. if you understand these orders. Ensign Lovell pressed ENTER.

The UNSC wasn't taking any chances. And after everything he had seen, he didn't blame them.

His scanning windows appeared on the view screen, full of spectroscopic tracers and radar-and lots of noise.

Archimedesstation cycled three probes into and out of Slipstream s.p.a.ce. Each probe sent out radar pings and a.n.a.lyzed the spectrum from radio to X rays, then reentered normal s.p.a.ce and broadcast the data back to the station.

The problem with Slipstream s.p.a.ce was that the laws of physics never worked the way they were supposed to. Exact positions, times, velocities, even ma.s.ses were impossible to measure with any real accuracy. s.h.i.+ps never knew exactly where they were, or exactly where there were going.

Every time the probes returned from their two-second journey, they could appear exactly where they had left . . . or three million kilometers distant. Sometimes they never returned at all. Drones had to be sent after the probes before the process could be repeated.

Because of this slipperiness in the interdimensional s.p.a.ce, UNSC s.h.i.+ps traveling between star systems might arrive half a billion kilometers off course.

The curious properties of Slips.p.a.ce also made this a.s.signment a joke.

Ensign Lovell was supposed to watch for pirates or black-market runners trying to sneak by . . . and most importantly, for the Covenant. This station had never logged so much as a Covenant probe silhouette-and that was the reason he had specifically requested this dead-end a.s.signment. It was safe.

What he did see with regularity were trash dumps from UNSC vessels, clouds of primordial atomic hydrogen, even the occasional comet that had somehow plowed into the Slipstream.

Lovell yawned, kicked his feet up onto the control console, and closed his eyes. He nearly fell out of his chair when the COM board contact alert pinged.

”Oh no,” he whispered, fear and shame at his own cowardice forming a cold lump in his belly.Don't let it be the Covenant. Don't let it . . . not here. here.

He quickly activated the controls and traced the contact signal back to the source-Alpha probe.

The probe had detected an incoming ma.s.s, a slight arc to its trajectory pulled by the gravity of Sigma Octa.n.u.s. It was large. A cloud of dust, perhaps? If it was, it would soon distort and scatter.

Ensign Lovell sat up straighter in his chair.

Beta probe cycled back. The ma.s.s was still there and as solid as before. It was the largest reading Ensign Lovell had ever seen: twenty thousand tons. That couldn't be a Covenant s.h.i.+p-they didn't get that big. And the silhouette was a b.u.mpy spherical shape; it didn't match any of the Covenant s.h.i.+ps in the database. It had to be a rogue asteroid.

He tapped his stylus on the desk. What if it wasn't an asteroid? He'd have to purge the database and enable the self-destruct mechanism for the outpost. But what could the Covenant want way out here?

Gamma probe reappeared. The ma.s.s readings were unchanged. Spectroscopic a.n.a.lysis was inconclusive, which was normal for probe reading at this distance. The ma.s.s was two hours out at its present velocity. Its projected trajectory was hyperbolic-a quick swing near the star, and then it would pa.s.s invisibly out of the system and be forever gone.

He noted that its trajectory bought it close to Sigma Octa.n.u.s IV . . . which, if the rock were in real s.p.a.ce, would be cause for alarm. In Slips.p.a.ce, however, it could pa.s.s ”through” the planet, and no one would notice.

Ensign Lovell relaxed and sent the retrieval drones after the three probes. By the time they got the probes back, though, the ma.s.s would be long gone.

He stared at the last image on screen. Was it worth sending an immediate report to Sigma Octa.n.u.s COM? They'd make him send his probes out without a proper recovery, and the probes would likely get lost after that. A supply s.h.i.+p would have to be sent out here to replace them. The station would have to be inspected and recertified-and he'd receive a thorough lecture on what did and did not const.i.tute a valid emergency.

No . . . there was no need to bother anyone over this. The only ones who would be really interested were the high-forehead types at UNSC Astrophysics, and they could review the data at their leisure.

He logged the anomaly and attached it to his hourly update.

Ensign Lovell kicked up his boots and reclined, once again feeling perfectly safe in his little corner of the universe.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

0300 Hours, July 17, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNSC destroyerIroquois on routine patrol in the Sigma Octa.n.u.s Star System on routine patrol in the Sigma Octa.n.u.s Star System Commander Jacob Keyes stood on the bridge of theIroquois . He leaned against the bra.s.s railing and surveyed the stars in the distance. He wished the circ.u.mstances of his first command were more auspicious, but experienced officers were in short supply these days. And he had his orders. . He leaned against the bra.s.s railing and surveyed the stars in the distance. He wished the circ.u.mstances of his first command were more auspicious, but experienced officers were in short supply these days. And he had his orders.

He walked around the circular bridge examining the monitors and displays of engine status. He paused at the screens showing the stars fore and aft; he couldn't quite get used to the view of deep s.p.a.ce again. The stars were so vivid . . . and here, so different from the stars near Earth.

TheIroquois had rolled out of s.p.a.ce dock at Reach-one of the UNSC's primary naval yards-just three months ago. They hadn't even installed her AI yet; like good officers, the elaborate artificially intelligent computer systems were also in dangerously short supply. Still, had rolled out of s.p.a.ce dock at Reach-one of the UNSC's primary naval yards-just three months ago. They hadn't even installed her AI yet; like good officers, the elaborate artificially intelligent computer systems were also in dangerously short supply. Still,Iroquois was fast, well armored, and armed to the teeth. He couldn't ask for a finer vessel. was fast, well armored, and armed to the teeth. He couldn't ask for a finer vessel.

Unlike the frigates that Commander Keyes had toured on before, theMeriwether Lewis and andMidsummer Night , this s.h.i.+p was a destroyer. She was almost as heavy as both those vessels combined, but she was only seven meters longer. Some in the fleet thought the ma.s.sive s.h.i.+ps were unwieldy in combat-too slow and c.u.mbersome. What those critics forgot was that a UNSC destroyer sported two MAC guns, twenty-six oversized Archer missile pods, and three nuclear warheads. Unlike other fleet s.h.i.+ps, she carried no single-s.h.i.+p fighters-instead her extra ma.s.s came from the nearly two meters of t.i.tanium-A battleplate armor that covered her from stem to stern. The , this s.h.i.+p was a destroyer. She was almost as heavy as both those vessels combined, but she was only seven meters longer. Some in the fleet thought the ma.s.sive s.h.i.+ps were unwieldy in combat-too slow and c.u.mbersome. What those critics forgot was that a UNSC destroyer sported two MAC guns, twenty-six oversized Archer missile pods, and three nuclear warheads. Unlike other fleet s.h.i.+ps, she carried no single-s.h.i.+p fighters-instead her extra ma.s.s came from the nearly two meters of t.i.tanium-A battleplate armor that covered her from stem to stern. TheIroquois could dish out and take a tremendous amount of punishment. could dish out and take a tremendous amount of punishment.

Someone at the s.h.i.+pyard had appreciated theIroquois for what she was, too-two long streaks of crimson war paint had been applied to her port and starboard flanks. Strictly nonregulation and it would have to go . . . but secretly, Commander Keyes liked the ornamentation. for what she was, too-two long streaks of crimson war paint had been applied to her port and starboard flanks. Strictly nonregulation and it would have to go . . . but secretly, Commander Keyes liked the ornamentation.

He sat in the Commander's chair and watched his junior officers at their stations.

”Incoming transmissions,” Lieutenant Dominique reported. ”Status reports from Sigma Octa.n.u.s Four and also theArchimedes Sensor Outpost.” Sensor Outpost.”

”Pipe them through to my monitor,” Commander Keyes said.

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