Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [5]
He had drilled in cryogenic recovery a dozen times at the Academy. He’d seen his fellow officers naked before—men and women. But Dr. Halsey was a civilian. He didn’t know what protocols applied.
Lieutenant Keyes got up and went to her. “Can I help you—”
She swung her legs out of the tube and climbed out. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. Get cleaned up and dressed.” She brushed past him and strode to the showers. “Hurry. We have important work to do.”
Lieutenant Keyes stood straighter. “Aye, aye, Ma’am.”
With that brief encounter, their roles and the rules of conduct crystallized. Civilian or not—like it or not —Lieutenant Keyes understood that Dr. Halsey was in charge.
The bridge of theHan had an abundance of space for a vessel of its size. That is, it had all the maneuvering room of a walk-in closet. A freshly showered, shaved, and uniformed Lieutenant Keyes pulled himself into the room and sealed the pressure door behind him. Every surface of the bridge was covered with monitors and screens. The wall on his left was a single large semicurved view screen, dark for the moment because there was nothing in the visible spectrum to see in Slipspace.
Behind him was theHan ’s spinning center section, containing the mess, the rec room, and the sleep chambers. There was no gravity on the bridge, however. The diplomatic shuttle had been designed for the comfort of its passengers, not the crew.
It didn’t seem to bother Dr. Halsey. Strapped into the navigator’s couch, she wore a white jumpsuit that matched her pale skin, and had tied her dark hair into a simple, elegant knot. Her fingers danced across four keypads, tapping in commands.
“Welcome, Lieutenant,” she said without looking up. “Please have a seat at the communication station and monitor the channels when we enter normal space. If there’s so much as a squeak on nonstandard frequencies, I want to know instantly.”
He drifted to the communication station and strapped himself down. “Toran?” she asked. “Awaiting your orders, Dr. Halsey,” the ship AI replied. “Give me astrogation maps of the system.” “Online, Dr. Halsey.” “Are there any planets currently aligned with our entry trajectory and Eridanus Two? I want to pick up a
gravitational boost so we can move in-system ASAP.” “Calculating now, Doctor Hal—” “And can we have some music? Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto Number Three, I think.” “Understood Doctor—” “And start a preburn warm-up cycle for the fusion engines.” “Yes, Doc—” “And stop spinning theHan ’s central carousel section. We may need the power.” “Working . . . ” She eased back. The music started and she sighed. “Thank you, Toran.”
“You’re welcome, Dr. Halsey. Entering normal space in five minutes, plus or minus three minutes.”
Lieutenant Keyes shot the doctor an admiring glance. He was impressed—few people could put a shipboard AI through its paces so rigorously as to cause a detectable pause. She turned to face him. “Yes, Lieutenant? You have a question?” He composed himself and pulled his uniform jacket taut. “I was curious about our mission, ma’am. I
assume we are to reconnoiter something in this system, but why send a shuttle, rather than a prowler or a
corvette? And why just the two of us?” She blinked and smiled. “A fairly accurate assumption and analysis, Lieutenant. Thisis a reconnaissance mission . . . of sorts. We are here to observe a child. The first of many, I hope.”
“A child?” “A six-year-old male, to be precise.” She waved her hand. “It may help if you think of this purely as a
UNSC-funded physiological study.” Every trace of a smile evaporated from her lips. “Which is precisely what you are to tell anyone who asks. Is that understood, Lieutenant?” “Yes, Doctor.” Keyes frowned, retrieved his grandfather’s pipe from his pocket, and turned it end over end. He couldn’t
smoke the thing—igniting a combustible on the flight deck was against every major regulation on a UNSC space vehicle—but sometimes he just fiddled with it or chewed on the tip, which helped him think.