Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [124]
"Lie down please, Kelly." The doctor gestured to the contoured treatment chair. "Just a few more injections and we're done with your burn therapy."
Kelly sighed and eased herself onto the reclined chair.
Dr. Halsey removed a cloth covering a pair of injectors. She clicked them into the ports on Kelly's MJOLNIR armor ports that threaded directly into her subclavian and femoral veins. "Keep doing your physical therapy, and the dermacortic steroids will remove most of the scarring and restore your full mobility within another week," she explained.
"A week?" Kelly growled and struggled to rise. "Doctor, I need to be one hundred percent ASAP. The Chief has a mission—"
Dr. Halsey activated the injectors, and they hissed their contents into Kelly's body. She relaxed and slumped back on the table, unconscious.
"No, Kelly," Dr. Halsey whispered. "You're not going on the Chief's mission. You're going on mine."
The sedative in her bloodstream would knock out an ODST in peak condition for the better part of a day. Halsey estimated that Kelly would be unconscious for a little more than two hours. By that time they'd both be far enough along that there'd be no turning back.
Dr. Halsey swiveled one of the displays to face her. She executed the memory-erase command—wiping clean Cortana's recollection of the research they had done on old ONI lockdown codes. She folded the printout of their results and stuffed it into her pocket.
"Cortana?" "Yes, Doctor?" she replied. Her voice through the room's speakers sounded distracted. "Locate Corporal Locklear and have him report immediately, please."
"Done, Doctor Halsey."
"Thank you, Cortana. That will be all." She added in a whisper so low that only she heard: "Take good care of them all for me."
Dr. Halsey adjusted the examination table so it lay flat, and then loaded medical supplies and equipment onto its undercarriage. She placed a bag with four submachine guns and sixteen full clips of ammunition on top of the supplies.
She found a lukewarm cup of stale coffee and gulped it down to the dregs. Corporal Locklear appeared at the open entrance to the prep room. "Hey, Doc. Cortana said you needed me?" he said tersely.
He smoothed his hand over his shaved head. "I'm kind of busy right now, so if this can wait—"
"Whatever you're doing," Dr. Halsey told him, "this is more important." She nodded to Kelly's prone form. "I need your help getting SPARTAN-087 to the launch bay."
"Is she okay?" he asked and took a step toward her.
"She's fine, but I have to transfer her to the asteroid base. They have a piece of equipment necessary to complete her treatment."
Locklear appeared unconvinced. "But I just saw her—"
"She's fine," Dr. Halsey assured him. "Just sedated. This procedure is. . . unpleasant, even for a Spartan."
Locklear looked into Dr. Halsey's eyes and then nodded, accepting this explanation. He moved the head of the table and wheeled it through the doors, the med bay, and out into the waiting elevator.
Dr. Halsey followed on his heels.
When the elevator doors closed, she turned to the Corporal. "Your hand, please." He looked puzzled but held out his hand. Dr. Halsey took it and turned it palm-up. She set the long, lu
minous blue artifact in his grasp. The light emitted by the alien artifact shone onto their faces and made the interior of the elevator colder. "This is what the Covenant so desperately want. They tore up Reach to get it. They followed us into Slipspace. And Polaski died protecting this thing."
She watched Locklear carefully, gauging his reaction, and saw that he pulled away slightly at this last remark; it had hit home.
"And what the hell am I supposed to do with it?"
"Keep it safe," she told him. "Guard it with your life, because if the Covenant ever get it, they'll be able to jump through Slipspace a hundred times faster than they can now. Do you understand?"
Locklear closed his large fist around the crystal. "Not really, Doc. But I can take care of it." He paused