Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [37]
locker. If they didn’t make it out, at least the UNSC fleet would know where to find the rebel base.
“Your suit is breached,” Kelly reminded John. “We better get to the ship now, before Sam sets off his fireworks.” Linda and Fred checked the seals on the crate then carried it out. Kelly took point and John brought up
the rear.
They boarded the Pelican dropship and John sized up her armaments—dented and charred armor, a pair of old, out-of-date 40mm chain guns. The rocket pods had been removed. Not much of a warhorse. There was a flash of lightning at the far end of the dock. The thunder roiled through the deck, and then
through John’s stomach. While John watched, a gaping hole materialized in the airlock door amid a cloud of smoke and shattered
metal. Black space loomed beyond. With an earsplitting roar, the atmosphere held in the docks abruptly transformed into a hurricane. People, crates, and debris were blasted out of the ragged tear.
John pulled himself inside the dropship and prepared to seal the main hatch. He watched as emergency doors descended over the breached airlock. There was a second explosion, and the drop door paused, then fell and clattered to the deck, crushing a light transport vessel underneath.
Behind them, large bay doors closed, sealing the docks off from the city. Dozens of workers still on the
docks ran for their lives, but didn’t make it. Sam sprinted across the deck, perfectly safe inside his sealed black suit. He cycled through the Pelican’s emergency airlock.
“Back door’s open,” he said with a grin.
Kelly fired up the engines. The Pelican lifted, maneuvered through the dock, and then out through the blasted hole and into open space. She pushed the throttle to maximum burn. Behind them, the insurgent base looked like any other rock in the asteroid belt . . . but this rock was
venting atmosphere and starting to rotate erratically.
After five minutes at full power, Kelly eased the engines back. “We’ll hit the extraction point in two hours,” she said. “Check on our prisoner,” John said. Sam popped open the crate. “The seals held. Watts is still alive and has a steady pulse,” he said. “Good,” John grunted. He winced as the throbbing pain in his side increased. “Something bothering you?” Kelly asked. “How’s that biofoam holding up?” “It’s fine,” he said without even looking at the hole in his side. “I’ll make it.” He knew he should feel elated—but instead he just felt tired. Something didn’t sit right about the
operation. He wondered about all the dead dockworkers and civilians back there. None of them were
designated targets. And yet, weren’t they all rebels on that asteroid? On the other hand, it was like the Chief said—he had followed his orders, completed his mission, and gotten his people out alive. What more did he want?
John stuffed his doubts deep in the back of his mind.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, and squeezed Kelly’s shoulder. John smiled. “What could be wrong? We won.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
0600 Hours, November 2, 2525 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Reach UNSC Military Complex, planet Reach
John wondered who had died. The Spartans had been called to muster in their dress uniforms only once before: funeral detail.
The Purple Heart awarded to him after his last mission glistened on his chest. He made sure it was polished to a high sheen. It stood out against the black wool of his dress jacket. Occasionally John would look at it, and make sure it was still there.
He sat in the third row of the amphitheater and faced the center platform. The other Spartans sat quietly on the concentric rings of risers. Spotlights flicked on the empty stage.
He had been in Reach’s secure briefing chamber before. This is where Dr. Halsey had told them they were going to be soldiers. This is where his life had