Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [39]
The blurry outline that was still visible, hanging in the air, sharpened into crisp focus. It looked smooth and organic, and the hull possessed an odd, opalescent sheen—it looked more like the carapace of an exotic insect than the metal hull of a spacecraft. Recessed into the aft section were pods that pulsed with a purple-white glow. The prow of the craft was swollen like the head of a whale. John thought it possessed an odd, predatory beauty.
“The unidentified vessel,” the Admiral said, “launched an immediate attack against our forces.”
Blue flashes strobed from the ship. Red motes of light then appeared along its hull. Bolts of energy coalesced into a fiery smear against the blackness of space. The deadly flashes of light impacted on theArabia , splashed across its hull. Its meter of armor plating instantly boiled away, and a plume of ignited atmosphere burst from the breach in the ship’s hull. “Those were pulse lasers,” Admiral Stanforth explained, “and—if this record is to be believed—some kind of self-guided, superheated plasma weapon.”
TheHeracles andVostok launched salvos of missiles toward the craft. The enemy’s lasers shot half before they reached their target. The balance of the missiles impacted, detonated into blossoms of fire . . . that quickly faded. The strange ship shimmered with a semitransparent silver coating, which then vanished.
“They also seem to have some reflective energy shield.” Admiral Stanforth took a deep breath and his features hardened into a mask of grim resolve. “TheVostok andArabia were lost with all hands. TheHeracles jumped out of the system, but due to the damage she sustained, it took several weeks for Captain Veredi to make it back to Reach.
“These weapons and defensive systems are currently beyond our technology. Therefore . . . this craft is of nonhuman origin.” He paused, then added, “The product of a race with technology far in advance of our own.”
A murmur buzzed through the chamber.
“We have, of course, developed a number of first contact scenarios,” the Admiral continued, “and Captain Veredi followed our established protocols. We had hoped that contact with a new race would be peaceful. Obviously this was not the case—the alien vessel did not open fire until our task force attempted to initiate communications.”
He paused, considering his words. “Fragments of the enemy’s transmissions were intercepted,” he continued. “A few words have been translated. We believe they call themselves ‘The Covenant.’ However, before opening fire, the alien ship broadcast the following message in the clear.”
He gestured at Beowulf, who nodded. A moment later, a voice thundered from the amphitheater’s speakers. John stiffened in his seat when he heard it; the voice from the speakers sounded odd, artificial —strangely calm and formal, but laden with rage and menace.
“Your destruction is the will of the Gods . . . and we are their instrument.”
John was awestruck. He stood.
“Yes, Spartan?” Stanforth said.
“Sir, is this a translation?”
“No,” the Admiral replied. “They broadcast this to us in our language. We believe they used some kind of translation system to prepare the message . . . but it means they’ve been studying us for some time.”
John took his seat.
“As of November 1, the UNSC has been ordered to full alert,” Stanforth said. “Vice Admiral Preston Cole is mobilizing the largest fleet action in human history to retake the Harvest System and confront this new threat. Their transmission made one thing perfectly clear: they’re looking for a fight.”
Only years of military discipline kept John rooted to his seat—otherwise he would have stood up and asked to volunteer on the spot. He would have given anything to go and fight. This was the threat he and the other Spartans had been training for all their lives—he was certain of it. Not scattered rebels, pirates, or political dissidents.
“Because of this UNSC-wide mobilization,” Admiral Stanforth continued, “your training schedule will
be accelerated to its final phase: Project MJOLNIR.