Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [91]
“Irritated, sir?” John asked, genuinely puzzled. He would have thought the UNSC top brass would be elated by the victory, despite its cost. “But we won.”
Captain Keyes took a step back and cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “Didn’t Dr. Halsey ever teach you that winning isn’t everything, Master Chief?” He saluted. “You’ll excuse me.”
John saluted. He was so confused by Captain Keyes’ statement that he kept saluting as the Captain walked out of the room.
Winningwas everything. How could someone with Captain Keyes’ reputation think otherwise?
The Master Chief tried to recall if he had ever read anything like that in any military history or philosophy texts. What else was there other than winning? The only other obvious choice was losing . . . and he had long been taught that defeat was an unacceptable alternative. Certainly, Captain Keyes didn’t mean that they should havelost at Sigma Octanus?
Unthinkable.
He stood silently for ten minutes mulling this over. Finally the Military Police attendant entered the waiting room. “They’re ready for you now, sir.”
The double doors opened and Corporal Harland came out. The young man’s eyes were glazed and he trembled slightly. He looked worse than he had looked when the Master Chief had found him on Sigma Octanus IV.
The Master Chief gave a curt nod to the Corporal and then entered the debriefing chamber. The doors closed behind him.
His eyes instantly adjusted to the dark room. A large, curved desk dominated the far end of the rectangular room. A domed ceiling curved over his head, cameras, microphone, and speakers positioned like constellations.
A spotlight snapped on and tracked the Master Chief as he approached the desk.
A dozen men and women in Navy uniforms sat in the shadows. Even with his enhanced eyesight, the Master Chief could barely make out their scowling features and the glistening brass oak leaves and stars through the glare of the overhead light.
He stood at attention and saluted. The debriefing panel ignored the Master Chief and spoke among themselves. “The transmission that Keyes intercepted only makes sense translated this way,” a man in the shadows
said. A holotank hummed into operation. Tiny geometric symbols danced in the air above it: squares, triangles, bars, and dots.
To the Master Chief, they looked like either Morse code or ancient Aztec hieroglyphics. “I will concede that point,” a woman’s voice in the darkness replied. “But translation software comes up empty. It’s not a new Covenant dialect that we’ve discovered.”
“Or a Covenant dialect at all,” someone else said. Finally one of the officers deigned to notice the Master Chief. “At ease, soldier,” he said. The Master Chief let his arm fall. “Spartan 117, reporting as ordered, sirs.” There was a pause, then the woman’s voice spoke up, “We would like to congratulate you on your
successful mission, Master Chief. You’ve certainly given us plenty to consider. We would like to pin
down a few details of your mission.” There was something in her voice that made John nervous. Not scared. But it was the same feeling he had going into combat. The same feeling he got when bullets started flying.
“Youdo know, Master Chief,” the first male voice said, “that not answering truthfully—or omitting any
relevant details will lead to a court-martial?” John bristled. As if he could ever forget his duty. “I will answer to the best of my abilities, sir,” he replied stiffly.
The holotank hummed again and images from a Spartan helmet recorder sprang into view. John noted the camera ID—it was his own. The images blurred forward, then stopped. A three-dimensional image of the floating creatures he had seen in Côte d’Azur hung in the air, motionless.
“Playback, loop bookmarks one through nine, please,” the woman’s voice called out.
Instantly, the holographic image animated—the alien quickly took apart and then reassembled a car’s
electric motor. “This creature,” she continued. “During the mission, did you see any other Covenant species