Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [55]
"Yes, ma'am," Fred replied. "I mean, no, ma'am. It's not safe. The Fleet engaged the Covenant, but the enemy managed to land ground forces on Reach. We were sent to the surface to protect the orbital-gun generators." He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. "We were not successful in that mission. Covenant forces overwhelmed our position." He glanced back at Kelly and the other Spartans. "We fell back here. . . we thought it would be secure."
They continued down the sloping passage; titanium doors irised open for them and closed as soon as they passed.
"I see," Dr. Halsey replied. "And Captain Keyes? John?"
"Unknown," Fred told her. "The Master Chief and part of our team attempted to retrieve an unsecured NAV database from an orbital station before the Covenant got to it. Assuming he was successful, and given Captain Keyes's record of combat against the Covenant..." Fred's voice trailed off.
"I'm sure they accomplished their mission and escaped," Dr. Halsey said, finishing the thought for him. "John has never lost." "No, ma'am," Fred replied.
122 HALO: FIRST STRIKE 5
They walked in silence for a moment past a display of cap- Z
tured insurgent flags that had been mounted under glass along
the curved concrete wall. Most were emblazoned with an array
of gaudy insignia—family crests, bloodied dragons, and scorched
crossed swords. They continued past these remnants of a rebel- Z
lion the UNSC no longer had to worry about. 5
"Doctor Halsey?" Fred said. "Permission to speak freely?" ■
"Granted," she said. "I don't stand on ceremony, particularly S
given the circumstances. Speak your mind."
"Ma'am, something isn't normal about this Covenant inva
sion," Fred told her. "They've won, but they aren't glassing the
planet. At least not completely—as near as I can determine,
they've only hit the poles and a portion of the lower latitudes."
"And they had digging equipment in position over this fa
cility," Kelly added.
"Curious," Dr. Halsey said. "They've never taken an interest
in any human or human technologies—" She halted at a large
metal iris, big enough to drive a Warthog through, and set her
hand on a palm scanner. "The medical wing," she explained. She
spoke into the nearby microphone: " 'I shall do no harm.' " The
door opened for them.
High-intensity lights flickered on in the large room beyond.
There were a dozen medical diagnosis tables and a row of dis
plays along the far wall. The lime-colored floor was brightly
polished and sterile. The walls glowed with a faint pink lumines
cence. Seven doors led to adjacent offices and surgical bays with
windows looking out into this central room.
"Kalmiya?" she said. "Status?"
"Yes, Doctor," replied the disembodied voice of her personal
AI, her replacement for Cortana. "I have prepared the Spartans'
personal medical files and sent runners to fetch stocks of blood
plasma and other medical supplies from cold storage, as well as
tools to assist in the removal of their MJOLNIR armor."
The doors to the tiny service elevator at the far end of the fa
cility opened, and a robotic rover rolled out, its telescopic arms
holding piles of liquid-filled bags. Rows of tools were neatly
lined up across the rover's top tray.
"Very good," Dr. Halsey said. "Continue to track seismic ac
tivity overhead. Interface with the Spartans' biomonitors and patch the output to the display on bay three."
She strolled over to a table, and a bank of holographic displays hummed to life, floating serenely. Graphs and figures scrolled across them.
"Give me a spotlight here, prepare a sterilization field, and lower the ambient lighting by forty percent. And a little Mahler, please. Symphony number two."
"Yes, Doctor." Music