Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [98]
“Their duty record?” Dr. Halsey asked.
“Substandard,” Cortana replied. “They are slow and ineffective in offensive combat. They are somewhat of a joke within the fleet.”
“Perfect,” Dr. Halsey said. “I concur with your final selection recommendation. We will start the refit operations at once.”
“All we need now,” Cortana said, “is a Captain and crew.”
“Ah yes, the Captain.” Dr. Halsey slid on her glasses. “I have the perfect man for the job. He’s a tactical genius. I’ll forward you his CSV, and you can see for yourself.” She transferred the file to Cortana.
Cortana smiled, but it quickly faded. “His maneuvers at Sigma Octanus Four were performed without an onboard AI?”
“His ship left dock without an AI for technical reasons. I believe he has no compunctions about working with computers. In fact, it was one of the first refit requests he put in for theIroquois .”
Cortana did not look convinced.
“Besides, he has the most important qualification for this job,” Dr. Halsey said. “The man can keep a secret.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
0800 Hours, August 27, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, FLEETCOM Military Complex, planet Reach
This was the third time John had been in this highly secure briefing room on Reach. The amphitheater had an aura of secrecy, as if matters of grave importance had regularly been discussed within its circular wall. Certainly, every time he had been here, his life had changed.
His first time was his indoctrination into the Spartans—a lifetime ago. He recalled with a start how young Dr. Halsey had looked then. The second time was when he graduated from the Spartan program, when he had last seen Chief Mendez. He had sat on the bench next to him—where the Chief was sitting now.
And today? He had a feeling that everything was about to change all over again.
Clustered around him were two dozen Spartans: Fred, Linda, Joshua, James, and many others he had not spoken to for years; constant battle had kept the tight-knit Spartans light-years apart for more than a decade. Dr. Halsey and Captain Keyes entered the chamber.
The Spartans stood at attention and saluted. Keyes returned their salute. “At ease,” he said. He escorted Dr. Halsey to the center stage. He sat while she stood at the podium.
“Good evening, Spartans,” she said. “Please take your seats.”
As one, they sat down.
“Assembled here tonight,” she said, “are all surviving Spartans save three, who are otherwise engaged on fields of combat too distant to be easily recalled. In the last decade of combat there have only been three KIAs and one Spartan too wounded to continue active duty. You are to be commended for having the best operational record of any unit in the fleet.” She paused to look at them. “It is very good to see you all again.”
She slipped on her glasses. “Admiral Stanforth has asked me to brief you on the upcoming mission. Due to its complexity and unusual nature, please disregard your normal protocol and ask any questions you have during my presentation. Now, on to the business at hand: the Covenant.”
Holographic projectors overhead warmed and sleek Covenant corvettes, frigates, and destroyers appeared in a neat row on Dr. Halsey’s left. On her right were a collection of Covenant species, roughly one-third their normal size. There was a Grunt, a Jackal, the floating, tentacled creature John had seen on Sigma Octanus IV, as well as the heavily armored behemoths he and his team had bested.
A spike of adrenaline burned through the Master Chief at the sight of the enemy. Intellectually, he knew that the images were