Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [33]
“Won’t be that easy,” Fred said from the darkness. He flicked on his flashlight and peered back at John. “There are a million ways this can go wrong. We’re going in without recon. I don’t like it.” “We only have one advantage on this mission,” John said. “The rebels have never been infiltrated—
they’ll feel relatively safe and won’t be expecting us. But every extra second we stay . . . that’s another chance for us to be spotted. We’ll follow Kelly’s hunch.”
“You questioning orders?” Sam asked Fred. “Scared?” There was a slight hint of challenge in his voice. Fred thought for a moment. “No,” he whispered. “But this is no training mission. Our targets won’t be firing stun rounds.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to fail.”
“We’re not going to fail,” John told him. “We’ve accomplished every mission we’ve been on before.”
That wasn’t entirely true: the augmentation mission had wiped out half of the Spartans. They weren’t invincible. But John wasn’t scared. A little nervous, maybe—but he was ready.
“Rotate sleep cycles,” John said. “Wake me up in four hours.” He turned over and quickly nodded off to the sound of the sloshing water. He dreamed of gravball and a coin spinning in the air. John caught it and yelled, “Eagle!” as he won again.
He always won.
Kelly nudged John’s shoulder and he was instantly awake, hand on his assault rifle.
“We’re decelerating,” she whispered, and pointed her light into the water below. The liquid tilted at a twenty-degree inclination. “Lights off,” John ordered. They were plunged into total darkness. He popped the hatch and snaked the fiber-optic probe—attached to his helmet—through the crack. All
clear. They climbed out, then rappelled down the back of the ten-meter-tall tank. They donned their grease- stained coveralls and removed their helmets. The black suits looked a little bulky beneath the work
clothes, but the disguise would hold up to a cursory inspection. With their weapons and gear in duffel bags, they’d pass as crew . . . from a distance. They crept through a deserted corridor and into the cargo bay. They heard a million tiny metallic pings
as gravity settled the ship. TheLaden must be docking to a spinning station or a rotating asteroid. The cargo bay was a huge room, stacked to its ceiling with barrels and crates. There were massive tanks
of oil. Automated robot forklifts scurried between rows, checking for items that might have come loose in transit. There was a terrific clang as a docking clamp grabbed the ship. “Cigars are this way,” Kelly whispered. She consulted her data pad, then tucked it back into her pocket.
They moved out, clinging to the shadows. They stopped every few meters, listened, and made sure their fields of fire were clear.
Kelly held up her hand and made a fist. She pointed to the secure hatch on the starboard side of the hold.
John signaled Fred and Kelly and motioned them to go forward. Fred used the lockbreaker on the door and it popped open. They entered and closed it behind them.
John, Sam, and Linda waited. There was a sudden motion and the Spartans snapped their weapons to firing positions—
A robot forklift passed down an adjacent aisle.
The massive aft doors of the cargo hold parted with a hiss. Light spilled into the hold. A dozen dockworkers dressed in coveralls entered.
John gripped his MA2B tighter. One man looked down the aisle where they crouched in the shadows. He stooped, paused—
John raised his weapon slowly, his hands steady, and sighted on the man’s chest. “Always shoot for center of mass,” Mendez had barked during weapons training. The man stood, stretched his back, and moved on, whistling quietly to himself.
Fred and Kelly returned, and Kelly opened and closed her hand, palm out—she had placed the marker.
John grabbed his helmet from his duffel bag and slipped it on. He pinged the navigation marker and saw the blue triangle flash once on his heads-up display. He returned Kelly’s thumbs-up and removed the helmet.
John stowed his helmet and MA2B and motioned for the rest of the team to do the same. They casually walked out