Part 21 (1/2)

Between the Spartans and the refittedPillar of Autumn , Captain Keyes was beginning to believe Dr. Halsey's long-shot mission might work after all. ”Captain on the deck!” one of the Spartans shouted. Every Spartan stopped and snapped to attention. ”As you were,” he said. The Spartans relaxed slightly. One turned and strode toward him. ”Master Chief SPARTAN 117 reporting as ordered, sir.” The armored giant paused, and for a moment, , Captain Keyes was beginning to believe Dr. Halsey's long-shot mission might work after all. ”Captain on the deck!” one of the Spartans shouted. Every Spartan stopped and snapped to attention. ”As you were,” he said. The Spartans relaxed slightly. One turned and strode toward him. ”Master Chief SPARTAN 117 reporting as ordered, sir.” The armored giant paused, and for a moment, Keyes thought the Spartan looked uncomfortable. ”Sir, I regret the unit was not able to ask your permission to come aboard. Admiral Stanforth insisted we keep our presence off the COM channels and computer networks.”

Captain Keyes found the reflective faceplates of the Spartans' helmets disconcerting. It was impossible to read their features. ”Quite all right, Master Chief. I just wanted to extend my regards. If you or your men need anything, let me know.”

”Yes, sir,” the Master Chief said.

An awkward moment of silence pa.s.sed. Captain Keyes felt like he didn't belong here-an intruder in a very exclusive club. ”Well, Master Chief, I'll be on the bridge.” ”Sir!” The Master Chief saluted. Captain Keyes returned the salute and left with Lieutenant Hikowa. When the elevator doors closed, Lieutenant Hikowa said, ”Do you think-I mean with all due respect to the Spartans, sir-don't you think they're . . . strange?”

”Strange? Yes, Lieutenant. You might act a little strange if you seen and been through as much as they had.” ”Some people say they're not even humans in those suits-that they're just machines.” ”They're human,” Captain Keyes said. The elevator doors parted and Captain Keyes stepped onto his bridge. It was much smaller than he was accustomed to; the command chair was only a meter from the other stations. View screens dominated the room, and a ma.s.sive, curved window afforded a panoramic view of the stars.

”Status reports,” Captain Keyes ordered. Lieutenant Dominique spoke first. ”Communication systems are green, sir. Monitoring FLEETCOM Reach traffic. No new orders.” Dominique had gotten his hair shorn since he had been on theIroquois . He also had a new tattoo around his left wrist: the wavy lines of a Besell function. . He also had a new tattoo around his left wrist: the wavy lines of a Besell function.

”Reactor shakedown eighty percent complete,” Lieutenant Hall reported. ”Oxygen, power, rotation, and pressure all green lights, sir.” She smiled, but it wasn't like before-an automatic gesture. She seemed genuinely happy.

Lieutenant Hikowa took her seat and strapped in. She gathered her black hair and tied it into a knot. ”Weapons panel shows green, sir. MAC gun capacitors at zero charge.” Ensign Lovell finally reported: ”Navigation and sensor systems online, Captain, and all green. Ready for your orders.” Lovell was completely focused on his station. A small hologram of Cortana flickered on the AI pedestal near navigation. ”Engine shakedown running smoothly, Captain,” she said. ”All personnel onboard. You have half-power now if you wish to move the s.h.i.+p. Fujikawa-Shaw generators on-line . . . you can take us into the Slipstream at your pleasure.” ”Very good,” Captain Keyes said. Keyes surveyed his crew, pleased at how they had sharpened up after Sigma Octa.n.u.s. Gone were the bleary, haggard expressions, and the tentative, nervous mannerisms. Good, he thought. We're going to need everyone at the top of their game now. The crew had been briefed on their mission-part of it anyway. Captain Keyes had insisted. They were told they would be attempting to capture Covenant technology, with an aim to disabling one of the aliens' s.h.i.+ps and bringing it back intact. What the crew didn't know were the stakes.

”Approaching Reach system's edge,” Ensign Lovell reported. ”Ready to generate a Slipstream-” ”Captain!” Lieutenant Dominique cried. ”Incoming Alpha priority transmission from FLEETCOM HQ at Reach . . . sir, they're under Covenant attack!”

SECTION V REACH.

CHAPTER THIRTY 0000 Hours, August 29, 2552 (Military Calendar) / narrow-band point-to-point transmission: origin UNKNOWN; termination: Section Three, Omega secure antenna array, UNSC HQ Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex PLNBPriority Transmission XX087R-XX Encryption Code:GAMMA Transmission XX087R-XX Encryption Code:GAMMA Public Key: Public Key:N/A From: From:CODENAME:COALMINER To: To:CODENAME:SURGEON Subject: Subject:PROGRESS REPORT/OPERATIONHYPODERMIC Cla.s.sification: Cla.s.sification:EYES ONLY TOP SECRET (SECTION III X-RAY DIRECTIVE) /file extraction-reconst.i.tution complete/ /start file/ Secured s.p.a.ce-dock repair bay. CorvetteCirc.u.mference undergoing final stealth upgrades. s.h.i.+pyard undergoing final stealth upgrades. s.h.i.+pyard records successfully altered. Queries detected from transient AI. Operation deemed AT RISK of being uncovered. As per contingency plan TANGO: s.h.i.+p registration numbers scrambled; hard isolated from dockside computer network; counterintrusion software implemented; Alpha security protocols enacted onboard.

Just as you called it, sir. Don't worry-as far as the station computers are concerned,Circ.u.mference never even existed. /end file/ /scrambledestruction process enabled/ Press never even existed. /end file/ /scrambledestruction process enabled/ PressENTER to continue. to continue.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

0447 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Remote Sensing StationFermion, Epsilon Eridani System's edge Epsilon Eridani System's edge Chief Petty Officer McRobb entered the command center of Remote Sensing StationFermion . Lieutenants (JG) Bill Streeter and David Brightling stood and saluted. . Lieutenants (JG) Bill Streeter and David Brightling stood and saluted.

He wordlessly returned their salutes.

The wall-sized monitors displayed the contents of the last Slipstream probes: multidimensional charts, a rainbow of false color enhancements, and a catalog of objects adrift in the alternate s.p.a.ce. Some of the new officers thought the representations looked ”pretty.”

To Chief McRobb, however, each pixel on the screens represented danger. So many things could hide in multidimensional s.p.a.ce: pirates, black marketers . . . the Covenant.

McRobb inspected their duty stations. He double-checked that all programs and hardware were running within UNSC specifications. He ran his hand along the monitors and keypads looking for dust. Their stations were in tip-top shape.

Considering what they were guarding, Reach, anything less than perfection was unacceptable. He made certain his crew knew it, too.

”Carry on,” he said.

Since the battle of Sigma Octa.n.u.s, FLEETCOM had rea.s.signed top people to its Remote Sensing Stations. Chief McRobb had been pulled from Fort York on the edge of the Inner Colonies. He had spent the last three months helping his crew brush up on their abstract and complex algebras to interpret the probe data.

”Ready to send out the next set of probes, sir,” Lieutenant Streeter said. ”Linear accelerator and Slips.p.a.ce generators online and charged.”

”Set for thirty-second return cycle and launch,” Chief McRobb ordered.

”Aye, sir. Probes away, sir. Accelerated and entering the Slipstream.”

FLEETCOM didn't really expect anything to attack the Reach Military Complex. It was the heart of the UNSC military operations. If anything did attack it, the battle would be a short one. There were twenty Super MAC guns in orbit. They could accelerate a three-thousand-ton projectile to point four-tenths the speed of light-and place that projectile with pinpoint accuracy. If that wasn't enough to stop a Covenant fleet, there were anywhere from a hundred to a hundred and fifty s.h.i.+ps in the system at any given time.

Chief McRobb knew, though, there had been another military base that was once thought too strong to attack-and the military had paid the price for their lack of vigilance. He wasn't about to let Reach become another Pearl Harbor. Not on his watch.

”Probes returning, sir,” Lieutenant Brightling announced. ”Alpha reentering normal s.p.a.ce in three . . . two . . . one. Scanning sectors. Signal acquired at extraction point minus forty five thousand kilometers.”

”Process the signals and send out the recovery drone, Lieutenant.”

”Aye, sir. Getting signal lock on-” The Lieutenant squinted at his monitor. ”Sir, would you take a look at this?”

”On the board, Lieutenant.”

Radar and neutron imager silhouettes appeared on-screen-and filled the display. Chief McRobb had never seen anything like it in Slipstream s.p.a.ce.

”Confirm that the data stream is not corrupted,” the Chief ordered. ”I'm estimating that object is three thousand kilometers in diameter.”

”Affirmative . . . thirty-two-hundred-kilometer diameter confirmed, sir. Signal integrity is green. We'll have a trajectory for the planetoid as soon as Beta probe returns.”

It was rare for any natural object this large to be in Slipstream s.p.a.ce. An occasional comet or asteroid had been logged-UNSC astrophysicists still weren't sure how the things got into the alternate dimension. But there had never been anything like this. At least, not since- ”Oh my G.o.d,” McRobb whispered.

Not since Sigma Octa.n.u.s.

”We're not waiting for Beta probe,” Chief McRobb barked. ”We are initiating the Cole Protocol. Lieutenant Streeter, purge the navigational database, and I meanright now . Lieutenant Brightling, remove the safety interlocks on the station's reactor.” . Lieutenant Brightling, remove the safety interlocks on the station's reactor.”

His junior officers hesitated for a moment-then they understood the gravity of their situation. They moved quickly.

”Initiating viral data scavengers,” Lieutenant Streeter called out. ”Dumping main and cache memory.” He turned in his seat, his face white. ”Sir, the science library is offline for repairs. It has every UNSC astrophysics journal in it.”

”With navigation data on every star within a hundred light-years,” the Chief whispered. ”Including Sol. Lieutenant, you get someone down there and destroy that data. I don't care if they have to hit it with a G.o.dd.a.m.n sledgehammer-make sure that data is wiped.”

”Aye, sir!” Streeter turned to the COM and began issuing frantic orders.

”Safety interlocks red on the board,” Lieutenant Brightling reported. His lips pressed into a single white line, concentrating. ”Beta probe returning, sir, in four . . . three . . . two . . . one. There. Off target one hundred twenty thousand kilometers. Signal is weak. The probe appears to be malfunctioning. Trying to scrub the signal now.”

”It's too much of a coincidence that it's malfunctioning, Streeter,” the Chief said. ”Get FLEETCOM on Alpha channel on the double! Compress and send the duty log.”

”Aye, sir.” Lieutenant Streeter's fingers fumbled with the keypad as he typed-then had to retype the command. ”Logs sent.”

”Beta probe signal on the board,” Lieutenant Brightling reported. ”Calculating the object's trajectory . . . ”

The planetoid was closer. Its edges, however, had abnormalities-b.u.mps and spikes and protrusions.

Chief McRobb s.h.i.+fted and clenched his hands into fists.