Part 34 (1/2)
”I'm in,” Cortana reported over the COM. ”I have secured our own channel and encrypted the signal so we're free to use the interteam COM.”
”Good work,” John told her. ”Is there a central reactor in this station? How well defended is it?” ”Stand by. I have to move carefully. There are Covenant security AIs in this system.” John hoped that this copy of Cortana's infiltration routines was as good as the real Cortana.
”I have schematics for the station,” she told him. ”The good news is, each lobe has a central reactor complex with five hundred twelve-terawatt units similar in design to the pinch fusion reactors on their s.h.i.+ps. Apparently this energy is used to power a s.h.i.+eld generator that can repel the collision of a small moon. I can overload one reactor, causing the melting of its field coils, which will saturate the surrounding-”
”Will it explode?” John asked impatiently.
”Yes-an explosion of sufficient force to vaporize both sections.” ”That's the good news? What's the bad?” ”The reactor's control system is isolated. I cannot reach it from this terminal. You will have to physically physically deliver me there.” deliver me there.”
”Where is 'there'?”
”The nearest reactor-control access point is seven kilometers farther into the station's top lobe.”
John considered this. If they were careful and lucky, it might be possible.
”Is there a way to leave you in the central system until we need you?” he asked. ”It would be handy to have you monitor the Covenant security systems.”
The duplicate Cortana was silent a full three seconds. ”There is a way,” she finally replied. ”When I was copied from the original Cortana, the duplicating software was copied as well-it becomes an inseparable part of all subsequent copies. I can use this to copy myself into this system.”
”Perfect.”
”There are risks, however,” Cortana told him. ”Each successive copy contains aberrations that I cannot correct. There may be unforeseen complications a.s.sociated with using a copy of a copy.”
”Do it,” John ordered. ”I'll take that chance. But I'm not willing to take a chance on crossing seven kilometers behind enemy lines without a way to bypa.s.s their security systems.”
”Standby,” Cortana said. ”Working.” A minute ticked off John's mission timer. Then the data chip ejected from the terminal.
”Done,” Cortana said over the interteam COM. ”I'm in. There's an exit to this bay thirty meters to your left. I will black out the security cameras there and open the door in twenty seconds. Hurry.”
John retrieved the chip and reinserted it into his skull. There was a flash of cold mercury in his mind.
”Move out,” John told Blue Team. ”Stay low.”
Fred's and Linda's acknowledgment lights flickered, indicating the way was clear.
Blue Team ran, crouching, for thirty meters. A small access panel slid open, they piled through-then the door snapped shut behind them.
They proceeded, hunched over; they crawled on their hands and knees, on their stomachs, and through ducting so tight they had to shut down their s.h.i.+elds and sc.r.a.pe by on bare armor over metal. For kilometers they followed Cortana's directions, halting as she ran motion sensors through diagnostics until they pa.s.sed ... twisting and turning and s.h.i.+mmying down long lengths of pipe, dodging the giant blades of circulation fans, and edging by transformer coils so close that sparks arced across their s.h.i.+elds.
According to John's mission timer they had followed this route for eleven hours-when it dead-ended. ”New welds,” Fred said, running his gauntlet over the seams in the alloy plate blocking their path. Cortana broke in over the COM, ”It must be a repair not logged into the station manifest.”
John said. ”Options?”
Cortana replied, ”I have only limited mission-planning routines. There are three obvious options. You can blow the obstructing plate with a Lotus ant.i.tank mine. You can return to the repair bay where we might find a less obvious way in. Or there is a faster, alternative route, but it has drawbacks.”
”Time is running out,” John said. ”The Covenant aren't going to stick around much longer before they strike Earth. Give me the faster route.”
”Backtrack four hundred meters, turn bearing zero-nine-zero, proceed another twenty meters, and exit through a waste access cover. From there you will move in the open for seven hundred meters, pa.s.s through a structure, and then down a guarded corridor to the reactor chambers.”
Grace interrupted, ”What do you mean 'in the open'? This is a s.p.a.ce station; there should be no open s.p.a.ces.”
”See for yourself,” Cortana said.
A schematic of the ”open s.p.a.ce” appeared on their heads-up displays. John wasn't able to make much sense of the diagram, but he could tell there were several catwalks, buildings, and even waterways-as Cortana indicated, lots of open areas for them to be seen in.
”Let's take a look,” John said.
He led his team back the way they had come and pushed open the waste access duct. Blue light flooded the tunnel. John blinked and let his eyes adjust, then pushed the fiber-optic probe through the opening.
John didn't understand what he saw-the optical probe must have malfunctioned. The image looked impossibly distorted. But there was no motion nearby . . . so he risked poking his head out.
He was in the end of an alley with walls towering ten meters to either side, casting dark shadows over the waste access hole. A group of Jackals pa.s.sed the mouth of the alley only five meters from his position. He ducked ... and none of the vulturelike creatures saw him in the dark.
When they pa.s.sed he looked up and saw that the fiber-optic probe had not been broken after all.
The s.p.a.ce station was hollow inside, and a light beam shot lengthwise through its center: a blue light that provided full daylight illumination. Along the curved inner surface were needle-thin spires, squat stair-step pyramids, and columned temples. Catwalks with moving surfaces crisscrossed the s.p.a.ce, as did tubes with capsules that whisked pa.s.sengers. Water flowed along the walls in inward-spiral patterns and then waterfalled ”up” into great hollow towers that sprouted from the opposite wall.
Banshees flew in formation through the center s.p.a.ce of the great room, as did flocks of headless birds and great clouds of b.u.t.terflies. It could have been an Escher etching come to life.
John felt extreme vertigo for a moment. Then he understood that with advanced Covenant gravity technology, there didn't have to be an up or down here.
Odd that a military station would have so much unnecessary ornamentation. Yet Fleet HQ had a large atrium in their lobby. Maybe this was the Covenant equivalent-multiplied a hundredfold.
John spied a band of translucent material set into a far wall, glistening. ”Is that the window to the repair bays, Cortana?”
”Correct,” she replied.
”Then at least we know the way out. And the structure we need to enter?” ”One o'clock,” she said. ”The one with the carved columns. It is the most direct route to the reactor chambers.”
John moved out of the hole and hugged the nearby wall. The shadows in the bright daylight would do a decent job of camouflaging them.
”Okay, Blue Team. Get oriented. . . as much as you can. Our target is the columned building at one o'clock. I make it to be a three-hundred-meter sprint across open ground. We'll make a break for it. Unless anyone has a better plan?”
Linda emerged, looked around, and said, ”Permission to post on the rooftop and provide cover.”
”Do it,” John said. ”Let me know when you're in position and ready.”
Linda retrieved a padded grappling hook and rope from her pack, twirled it, and tossed it up and over the adjacent roof. She tugged it once, it caught, and then she quickly ascended.
The remaining Spartans joined John in the shadows. He shouldered his battle rifle and thumbed the safety off.
Linda's acknowledgment light winked once.
John tensed and ran. It took him three strides to build to his top-speed sprint. His adrenaline spiked and it made his blood burn. He felt time slow, his perception running at an overclocked pace. He focused on speed-putting one foot in front of the other. His boots dug into cobblestones, crushed rock, and sent a fine spray of gravel behind him. He saw three obstacles in his path: a group of startled Grunts. He slammed the b.u.t.t of his rifle into the nearest one, and crushed its skull. The dead Grunt spun end over end and landed in a heap. He heard squawks and shouts around him but didn't stop to look.
He was on the stairs of the building, worn-smooth stone steps that he bounded up five at a time. John saw three friendly contacts behind him on his motion tracker ... and at the periphery of its range a solid ma.s.s of enemy contacts.