Halo_ Ghosts of Onyx - Eric S. Nylund [30]
"This is crazy," Lucy spat through her mud-covered face. "We gotta do something."
"They have to run out of ammo sooner or later," Tom told her. "Or one of the other teams will show up and get us out of this jam."
"Sure they will," Lucy said. "After they ring the bell." She squinted at the trees. "There has to be a way out of this. Automated gun turrets up there. That's why they didn't show up on the thermals."
That's what the Lieutenant was always saying about machines: "They easily fool the unsuspecting… but they're also easy to break."
The guns wouldn't kill them—but they'd sure as heck stop them cold. With only gray sweat suits and light boots for protection, the stun rounds hit so hard they numbed whatever they hit: legs or arms or God help you if you got nailed in the head or groin or an eye.
"Nuts to this." Lucy rose into a crouching stance.
Tom grabbed her ankle, pulled her down, and punched her in the gut.
Lucy doubled, but she recovered fast—rolled over Tom and got him in a stranglehold.
Tom shrugged out of the lock and held up both hands. "Come on," he said. "Truce. There has to be a way out of this—a way with us not getting shot."
Lucy glared at him, but then said, "What do you have in mind?"
"What is the point of this 'exercise,' Lieutenant?" Deep Winter asked.
The AI holographic projection of an old man took a step toward the bank of monitors and touched the screen showing a boy and a girl pinned by machine-gun fire. A crackle of ice spread over the plastic.
Chief Mendez stood, and swatted at a mosquito, frowning as he glanced back and forth among the two dozen displays in Camp Currahee's control center. The air conditioner had broken, and both Mendez's and Kurt's uniforms were soaked with sweat.
Kurt said, "Our candidates are doing well in their studies?"
Deep Winter turned his glacier-blue gaze to the Lieutenant. "You've have seen my reports. You know they are. Since you announced their grades were a factor in the selection process, they practically kill themselves every night to learn everything before they pass out. Frankly, I don't see—"
"1 suggest," Kurt said, "you not worry about seeing the point of my battlefield drills, and focus on keeping the candidates on track with their studies."
What could an AI possibly know what it was like on a real mission? Bullets zinging so close over your head that you didn't so much as hear them hut felt them pass. Or what it was like to get hit, but still have to keep going, bleeding, because if you didn't everyone on your team would die?
Alpha Company had lost their team cohesion on Operation PROMETHEUS. Kurt vowed that would not happen with Beta Company.
Deep Winter ruffled his cape, and a flurry of illusionary snow swirled about the control room. The AI was likely programmed with human safety protocols, so it was natural for it to be concerned.
"We don't know what they're capable of," Kurt finally told Deep Winter. "Stick with the bythe-book drills and we'll never
find out, either. But put them in an impossible situation, and maybe they'll surprise us."
"Short definition of a Spartan," Mendez remarked.
That's what people had said about the SPARTAN-IIs who were the genetic cream of the crop and wore MJOLNIR armor. They could do the impossible, and do it alone. The SPARTAN-IIIs, though, would have to work together to survive. Be more family than fire team.
"Still," Deep Winter whispered. "This is cruel. They will break."
"I'd rather break them," Kurt said, "than let them go out into the field without ever experiencing an intractable tactical situation."
"Personally I don't think these kids can be broken," Mendez said more to himself than to Kurt or Deep Winter. His gaze now firmly fixed on Tom and Lucy. "Ten years old and these
two have so much grit they scare the bejesus out of even me."
"Look," Deep Winter said. "What are those two doing now?"
Kurt smiled. "I think… the impossible."
"Let's go over the plan one more time," Tom said.
Lucy huddled next to him in the mud hole. "Why? You think I'm stupid?"
Tom didn't