Halo_ Ghosts of Onyx - Eric S. Nylund [13]
The smallest flicker of a smile played over Vice Admiral Parangosky's thin lips.
"Crap," Rich muttered. He took a draw from his whiskey flask. "Now I've heard everything."
"What's your angle, Colonel?" Gibson demanded. "You've been on record against Dr. Halsey's SPARTAN-IIs since she started the program."
"I have," Ackerson said. "And I still am." He nodded to the readers. "Screen forty-two please."
They tabbed ahead.
"Here I detail the flaws of Halsey's undeniably 'successful' program," Ackerson said. "High cost, an absurdly small gene-candidate pool, inefficient training methodologies, far too few final units produced—not to mention her dubious ethics of using flash cloning procedures."
Parangosky scrolled ahead. "And you are proposing… ah, a SPARTAN-III program?" Her cast-iron expression didn't betray a hint of emotion.
"Consider the SPARTAN-IIs a proof-of-concept prototype," Ackerson explained. "Now it is time to shift into production mode. Make the units better with new technology. Make more of them. And make them cheaper."
"Interesting," she whispered.
He sensed he was getting through to her, so he pressed on.
"The SPARTAN-IIs have one additional feature that makes them undesirable for our purposes," Ackerson said. "A public presence. Although classified top secret, stories have leaked throughout the fleet. Just a myth at this point, but Section Two has plans to disseminate more information, and soon go public with the program."
"What!?" Rich pushed back from the table. "They can't release details of a top-secret—"
"To boost morale," Ackerson explained. "They'll build the legend of the Spartan. If the war goes as projected with the Covenant, we will certainly need drastic measures to maintain confidence among the rank and file."
"That means these Spartans will have to be, what, protected?" Rich asked incredulous. "If they're all dead, that makes a psy-ops campaign kind of moot, don't it?"
"Not necessarily, sir," Gibson remarked. "They can be dead, just not a secret."
"I assume, Colonel," Parangosky said, "that this public
presence issue will not be a flaw with your proposed series-three program?"
"Correct, ma'am." Ackerson set his hands on the table and bowed his head. He then looked up. "This was a most difficult conclusion to come to. This new fighting force must be
inexpensive, highly efficient, and trained to take on missions that traditionally would never be considered. Not even by Halsey's supermen."
Rich scowled at this and his forehead wrinkled. "Suicide missions."
"High-value targets," Ackerson countered. "Covenant targets. The battles we have won against this enemy have come at unacceptable losses. With their numbers, their superior technology, we have few options against such a force, save extreme tactics."
"He's right," Gibson said. "Spartans have proven their effectiveness on high-risk missions, and although I hate to admit it, they're better than any human team I could assemble. Remove existing UNSC mandates for safety and exfiltration, and we have a shot of slowing the Covenant down. It will give us time to think, plan, and come up with a better way to fight."
Parangosky whispered, "You want to trade lives for time."
Ackerson paused, carefully weighing his response, then said, "Yes, ma'am. Isn't that the
job of a solider?"
Parangosky stared at him. Ackerson held her gaze.
Rich and Gibson held their collective breath, speechless.
"Is there another option?" Ackerson asked. "How many worlds are now cinders? How
many billions of colonists have died? If we save a single planet, gain a few weeks, isn't that worth a handful of men and women?"
"Of course it is," she whispered. "God help