Very well, your squad might as well hear this now, too. I don’t know how they found Reach—they bypassed a dozen Inner Colony worlds to get here. It doesn’t matter. They are here. And we have to do something.” “Sir? ‘They’?” “The Covenant.” He turned to the intercom. “Cortana, display the last priority Alpha transmission.” A communiqué flickered on screen, and the Master Chief read: UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 04592Z-83 ENCRYPTION CODE: RED PUBLIC KEY: FILE /BRAVO-TANGO-BETA-FIVE/ FROM: ADMIRAL ROLAND FREEMONT, COMMANDING FLEET OFFICER, FLEETCOM SECTOR ONE COMMANDER/ (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00745-16778-HS) TO: ALL UNSC WARSHIPS IN EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM SUBJECT: IMMEDIATE RECALL CLASSIFICATION: CLASSIFIED (BGX DIRECTIVE) /START FILE/ COVENANT PRESENCE DETECTED ON REACH SYSTEM’S EDGE COORDINATES 030 RELATIVE. ALL UNSC WARSHIPS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO CEASE ALL ACTIVITIES AND REGROUP AT RALLY POINT ZULU AT BEST SPEED. ALL SHIPS ARE TO ENACT THE COLE PROTOCOL IMMEDIATELY. /END FILE/ “Cortana has picked up ship signatures on the Pillar of Autumn’s sensors,” Captain Keyes said. “She cannot be sure how many because of electrical interference, but there are more than a hundred alien ships inbound toward Reach. We have to go. We have our orders. The Section Three mission has to be scrubbed.” “Sir? Scrubbed?” John had never had a mission canceled. “Reach is our strategic headquarters and our biggest ship-building facility, Master Chief. If the shipyards fall, then Dr. Halsey’s prediction of humanity having only months to survive will shrink to weeks.” The Master Chief normally would never have contradicted a superior officer, but this time duty compelled him. “Sir, our two missions are not mutually exclusive.” Captain Keyes lit his pipe—in defiance of three separate regulations of igniting a combustible on a UNSC ship. He puffed once and thoughtfully examined the smoke. “What do you have in mind, Master Chief?” “A hundred alien vessels, sir. Between the combined force of the fleet and Reach’s orbital gun platforms, it is almost guaranteed there will be a disabled ship my squad can board and capture.” Captain Keyes mulled this over. “There will also be hundreds of ships exchanging fire with one another. Missiles, nukes… Covenant plasma torpedoes.” “Just get us close enough,” the Master Chief said. “Punch a hole in their shields long enough for us to get on their hull. We’ll do the rest.” Captain Keyes chewed on his pipe. He tucked it into the cup of his hand. “There are operational complications with your plan. Cortana has been running the Pillar of Autumn’s shakedown. We have our own AI, but by the time we get it initialized and running this ship—the battle may be over.” “I see, sir.” Captain Keyes gazed a moment at the Master Chief, then sighed. “If there is a disabled Covenant ship and if we are close enough to it and if we’re not blown to a million bits by the time we get there, then I’ll transfer Cortana to you.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.3

I’ve flown ships without an AI before.” Captain Keyes managed a weak smile, but it quickly disappeared. “Yes, sir!” “We’ll be at rally point Zulu in twenty minutes, Master Chief. Have your team ready by then… for anything.” “Sir.” He saluted. Captain Keyes returned the salute and entered the elevator, puffing on his pipe and shaking his head. The Master Chief turned to his teammates. They halted what they were doing. “You all heard. This is it. Fred and James, I want you to refit one of our Pelicans. Get every scrap of C-12 and shape a charge on her nose. If Captain Keyes downs a Covenant shield, we may have to blast our way into the ship’s hull.” Fred and James replied, “Aye, sir.” “Linda, assemble a team and get into every crate ONI packed for us—distribute that gear ASAP. Make sure everyone gets a thruster pack, plenty of ammo, grenades, and Jackhammer launchers if we have them. If we do get on board, we may encounter those armored Covenant types again—this time, I want the firepower to take them out.” “Yes, sir!” The Spartans scrambled to make ready for the mission. The Master Chief approached Kelly. On a private COM channel, he told her, “Crate thirteen on the manifest has three HAVOK nuclear mines. Get them. I have the arming cards. Ready them for transport.” “Affirmative.” She paused. The Master Chief couldn’t see her face past the reflective shield of her helmet, but he knew her well enough to know that the tiny slump of her shoulders meant that she was worried. “Sir?” she said. “I know this mission will be tough, but… do you ever get the feeling that this is like one of Chief Mendez’s missions? Like there’s a trick… some twist that we’ve overlooked?” “Yes,” he replied. “And I’m waiting for it.”


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.1

Chapter Thirty-Three 0534 HOURS, AUGUST 30, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / UNSC PILLAR OF AUTUMN, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM The Pillar of Autumn detonated its port emergency thrusters. The ship slid out of the path of the asteroid, missing it by ten meters— —The Covenant plasma trailing them did not. It impacted the city-sized rock and sent fountains of molten iron and nickel spewing into space. Nine of the ten teardrop-shaped Covenant fighters—nicknamed “Seraphs” by ONI—dodged the asteroid as well. The tenth ship slammed into the asteroid and vanished from the bridge’s view screen. The other single ships accelerated and swarmed around the Pillar of Autumn, harassing her with pulse laser fire. “Cortana,” Captain Keyes said, “activate our point defense system.” The Pillar of Autumn’s 50mm cannons flashed—chipping away at the Covenant ships’ shields. “Already engaged, Captain,” Cortana said calmly. “Ensign Lovell,” Captain Keyes said. “Engines all stop and bring us about one hundred eighty degrees. Lieutenant Hikowa, ready our MAC gun and arm Archer missile pods A1 through A7. I want a firing solution that has our Archer missiles hitting with the third MAC round.” “On it, sir,” Lieutenant Hikowa replied. “Aye, sir,” Ensign Lovell said. “Answering engines all stop. Coming about. Brace yourselves.” The Pillar of Autumn’s engines sputtered and died. Navigational thrusters fired and rotated the ship to face the real threat—a Covenant carrier. The enormous alien craft had materialized aft of the Pillar of Autumn and launched their single ships. The carrier had then launched two salvos of plasma—which Captain Keyes had only shaken by entering the asteroid field. Cortana maneuvered the massive Pillar of Autumn like it was a sporting yacht; she nimbly dodged tumbling rocks, using them to screen Covenant plasma and pulse laser bolts. But the Pillar of Autumn would emerge from the asteroid field in twenty seconds. “Firing solution online, sir,” Lieutenant Hikowa said. “MAC gun hot and missile safety interlocks removed. Ready to launch.” “Fire missiles at will, Lieutenant.” Rapid-fire thumps echoed though the Pillar of Autumn’s hull and a swarm of Archer missiles sped toward the incoming carrier. “MAC gun is hot,” Hikowa said. “Booster capacitors ready. Firing in eight seconds, sir.” “I must make one small adjustment to your trajectory, Lieutenant,” Cortana said. “Covenant single ships are concentrating their attacks on our underside. Captain? With your permission?” “Granted,” Keyes said. “Firing solution recalculated,” Cortana said. “Hang on.” Cortana fired thrusters and the Pillar of Autumn rotated belly up—brought the majority of her 50mm cannons to bear on the Covenant Seraph fighters underneath her. Overlapping fields of fire wore down their shields—punctured their armored hulls with a thousand rounds, tore through the pilots with a hail of projectiles, and peppered their reactors. Nine puffs of fire dropped behind the Pillar of Autumn and vanished into the darkness. “Enemy single ships destroyed,” Cortana said. “Approaching firing position.” “Cortana, give me a countdown. Lieutenant Hikowa, fire on my mark,” Captain Keyes said. “Ready to fire, aye,” Lieutenant Hikowa said.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.2

Cortana nodded; her trim figure projected in miniature inside the bridge holotank. As she nodded, a time display appeared, the numbers counting down rapidly. Keyes gripped the edge of the command chair, his eyes glued to the countdown. Three seconds, two, one… “Mark.” “Firing!” Hikowa answered. A triple flash of lightning saturated the forward view screen and bled in from the viewport; three white-hot projectiles crossed the black distance between the Pillar of Autumn and the Covenant carrier. Along the side of the carrier, motes of light collected as they rebuilt the charges of their plasma weapons. Archer missiles were pinpoints of exhaust in the distance; the carrier’s pulse lasers fired and melted a third of the incoming missiles. The Pillar of Autumn rolled to starboard and dove. Captain Keyes floated in free fall for a heartbeat, then landed awkwardly on the deck. The crenellated surface of an asteroid appeared on their port camera—meters away—then vanished. Captain Keyes was grateful that he never had time to initialize the Pillar of Autumn’s AI. Cortana performed superbly. The trio of blazing MAC rounds struck the carrier. The shield flashed once, twice. The third round got through—gutting the ship from stem to stern. The carrier spun sideways. Her shields stuttered once, trying to reestablish a protective screen. A hundred Archer missiles struck, cratered the hull, blossomed into fire and sparks and smoldering metal. The alien carrier listed and crashed into the asteroid the Pillar of Autumn had just narrowly avoided. It stuck there, hull broken and cracked. Columns of fire blossomed from the shattered vessel. Captain Keyes sighed. A victory. The Spartans, however, would not be taking that ship into Covenant space. It wasn’t going anywhere. “Cortana, mark the location of the destroyed ship and the asteroid. We may have a chance to salvage her later.” “Yes, Captain.” “Ensign Lovell,” Captain Keyes said, “turn us around and give me best speed to rally point Zulu.” Lovell tapped the thrusters and rotated the Pillar of Autumn to relative space normal with Reach. The rumble of the engines shook the decks as the ship accelerated in-system. “ETA twenty minutes at best speed, sir.” The battle for Reach could be over by the time he got there. Captain Keyes wished he could move through Slipspace for short, precision jumps like the Covenant. That carrier had materialized a kilometer behind the Pillar of Autumn. If he had that kind of accuracy, he could be at the rally point now—and be of some use. Any attempt to jump in-system, however, would be foolish at best. At worst, it would be a fatal move. Jump targets varied by hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Theoretically, they could reenter normal space inside Reach’s sun. “Cortana, give me maximum magnification on the fore cameras.” “Aye sir,” she said. The view on the forward screen zoomed in—jumped and refocused on planet Reach.


Twenty thousand kilometers from the planet, a cluster of a hundred UNSC ships collected at rally point Zulu: destroyers, frigates, three cruisers, two carriers—and three refit and repair stations hovering over them… waiting to be used as sacrificial shields. “Fifty-two additional UNSC warships inbound to rally point Zulu,” Cortana reported. “Shift focus to section four by four on-screen, Cortana. Show me those Covenant forces.” The scene blinked and transferred to the approaching Covenant fleet. There were so many ships Captain Keyes couldn’t estimate their numbers. “How many?” he asked. “I am presently tracking three hundred fourteen Covenant ships, Captain,” Cortana replied. Captain Keyes couldn’t tear his gaze away from the ships. The UNSC only won battles with the Covenant when they outnumbered the enemy forces three to one… not the other way around. They had one advantage: the MAC orbital guns around Reach—the UNSC’s most powerful nonnuclear weapon. Some called them “Super” MAC guns or the “big stick.” Their linear accelerator coils were larger than a UNSC cruiser. They propelled a three-thousand-ton projectile at tremendous speed, and could reload within five seconds. They drew power directly from the fusion reactor complex planetside. “Pull back the camera angle, Cortana. Let me see the entire battle area.” The Covenant ships accelerated toward Reach. The fleet at rally point Zulu fired their MAC guns and missiles. The orbital Super MAC guns opened fire as well—twenty streaks of white hot metal burned across the night. The Covenant answered by launching a salvo of plasma torpedoes at the orbital guns—so much fire in space that it looked like a solar flare. Deadly arcs of flame and metal raced through space and crossed paths. The engines of the three refit stations flared to life and the platelike ships moved toward the path of the flaming vapor. A plasma bolt caught the edge of the leading station—fire splashed over its flat surface. More bolts hit, and the station melted, sagged, and boiled. The metal glowed red, then white-hot, tinged with blue. The other two stations maneuvered into position and shielded the orbital guns from the fiery assault. Plasma torpedoes collided with them and sprayed plumes of molten metal into space. After a dozen hits, clouds of ionizing metal enveloped the place where the three stations had been. They had been vaporized. The last of the Covenant plasma hit the haze—scattered, absorbed, and made the cloud glow a hellish orange. Meanwhile, the fleet’s opening salvo and the Super MAC rounds hit the Covenant fleet. The smaller ship-based MAC rounds bounced off the Covenant shields—it took three or more to wear them down. The Super MAC rounds, however, were another story. The first Super MAC shell hit a Covenant destroyer. The ship’s shield flashed and vanished—the remaining impact momentum transferred to the ship—the hull rippled and shattered into a million fragments. Four nuclear mines detonated in the center of the Covenant fleet. Dozens of ships with downed shields flared white and dissolved.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.4

The other ships however, shrugged off the damage; their shields burned brilliant silver, then cooled. The surviving Covenant vessels advanced in-system—a third of their number were left behind… burning radioactive hulks or utterly destroyed by the Super MAC rounds. Plasma charges collected on the lateral lines of the Covenant ships. They fired. Fingers of deadly energy reached across space… toward the UNSC fleet. One Covenant ship sat in the center of the pack, a gigantic vessel, larger than three UNSC cruisers. White-blue beams flashed from its prow—a split second later, five UNSC vessels detonated. “Cortana… what the hell was that?” Keyes asked. “Lovell, push those engine superchargers as hot as you can make them.” “Running at three hundred ten percent, sir,” Lovell reported. “ETA fourteen minutes.” “Replaying and digitally enhancing video record,” Cortana said. She split the screen and zoomed in on the huge Covenant ship, replaying the video as the large ship fired. The Covenant energy beams looked like pulse lasers… but tinged silver white, the same scintillation effect that they’d seen when their shields were hit. Cortana switched back to view the doomed UNSC destroyer Minotaur. The lance of energy was needle-thin. It struck the vessel on A deck, aft, near the reactor. Cortana pulled the view back and slowed the record frame by frame—the beam punctured through the entire ship, emanating below H deck by the engines. “It drilled through every deck and both sets of battleplate,” Captain Keyes murmured. The beam moved through the Minotaur, slicing a ten-meter-wide swath. “Projected beam path cut through the Minotaur’s reactors,” Cortana said. “A new weapon,” Captain Keyes said. “Faster than their plasma. Deadlier, too.” The large Covenant ship veered off course and accelerated away from the battle. Perhaps it didn’t want to risk getting too close to their orbital MAC guns. Whatever the reason, Keyes was grateful to see it withdraw. The UNSC forces slowly scattered. Some launched missiles to intercept the plasma torpedoes, but the high-energy explosives did nothing to stop the superheated bolts. Fifty UNSC ships went up like flares, burning, exploding, falling toward the planet. The orbital Super MAC guns fired—sixteen hits and sixteen Covenant ships were blasted into flame and glittering fragments. The Covenant fleet split into two groups: half accelerated to engage the dispersing UNSC fleet; the remainder of their ships arced upward relative to the plane of the system. That group maneuvered to get a clear shot around the cloud of vaporized titanium from the refit stations. They were going to target the orbital guns. Plasma charges collected along their sides. The orbital guns fired. The super-heavy rounds tore through the clouds of ionized metal vapor, leaving whorls and spirals in the haze. They impacted eighteen incoming Covenant ships—ripped through them like tinfoil, with enough momentum to pulverize their hulls. Six Covenant ships cleared the interfering cloud of vapor. They had a clear shot. The Super MAC guns fired again. Plasma erupted from the sides of the nearby Covenant ships.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.5

The Super MAC rounds hit the vessels and obliterated the enemy. The streams of plasma, however, had already launched. They streaked toward the orbital guns—impacted and turned the installations into showers of sparks and molten metal. When the haze cleared, fifteen of the Super MAC orbital installations remained intact… five had been vaporized. The Covenant ships engaging the fleet turned and fled on an out-system vector. The remaining UNSC ships did not pursue. “Incoming orders, sir,” Lieutenant Dominique called out. “We’re being ordered to fall back and regroup.” Keyes nodded. “Cortana,” he said, “can you give me damage and casualty estimates for the fleet?” Her tiny holo image coalesced in the display tank. “Yes, Captain,” she said. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you want the bad news?” Damage estimates scrolled across his personal screen. They had taken heavy losses—an estimated twenty ships remained. Nearly one hundred shattered and burning UNSC vessels floated, lifeless, in the combat area. Captain Keyes realized that he was holding his breath. He exhaled. “That was too close,” he murmured. “It could have been closer, Captain,” Cortana whispered. He watched the retreating Covenant. Once again—it was too easy. No… it had been anything but “easy” for the UNSC forces, but the Covenant were certainly giving up far earlier than in any previous battle. The aliens had never stopped once they engaged an enemy. Except at Sigma Octanus, he thought. “Cortana,” Captain Keyes said. “Scan the poles of planet Reach and filter out the magnetic interference.” The view screen snapped to Reach’s northern pole. Hundreds of Covenant dropships streamed toward the planet’s surface. “Get FLEETCOM HQ online,” he ordered Lieutenant Dominique. “Copy this message to the Fleet Commander, as well.” “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “Channel connected.” “Tell them they’re being invaded. Dropships inbound at both poles.” Dominique sent the message, listened a moment, then reported, “Message received and acknowledged, sir.” The Super MAC guns pivoted and fired—shattering dozens of the Covenant dropships in the shells’ supersonic wake. The remains of the UNSC fleet split into two groups, moving toward either pole. Missiles and MAC guns fired and blasted the dropships to bits. The poles were punctuated with thousands of meteoroids as the bits of hull burned up in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have gotten through, Keyes thought. “Incoming distress signal from FLEETCOM HQ planet-side, sir,” Lieutenant Dominique said, his voice breaking. “On speakers,” Captain Keyes said. “There are thousands of them. Grunts, Jackals, and their warrior Elites.” The transmission broke into static. “They have tanks and fliers. Christ, they’ve breached the perimeter. Fall back! Fall back! If anyone can hear this: the Covenant is groundside. Massing near the armory… they’re—” White noise filled the speakers. Captain Keyes winced as he heard screams, bones snapping, an explosion. The transmission went dead. “Sir!” Lieutenant Hall said. “The Covenant fleet has altered their outbound trajectory.… they’re turning.” She rotated to face the Captain.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.6

“They’re coming in for another attack.” Captain Keyes stood straighter and smoothed his uniform. “Good.” He addressed the crew in the calmest voice he could muster. “Looks like we’re not too late after all.” Ensign Lovell nodded. “Sir, ETA to rally point Zulu in five minutes.” “Remove all missile safety locks,” Captain Keyes ordered. “Get our remote-piloted Longsword into the launch tube. And make sure our MAC gun capacitors and boosters are hot.” Captain Keyes pulled out his pipe. He lit it and puffed. The Covenant were, of course, after the orbital guns. Their suicidal frontal charge—while almost effective enough—had been just another diversion. The real danger was on the ground; if their troops took out the fusion generators, the Super MAC guns would be so much floating junk in orbit. “This is bad,” he muttered to himself. Cortana appeared on the AI pedestal near the NAV station. “Captain Keyes, I’m picking up another distress signal. It’s from the Reach space dock AI. And if you think this—” She gestured at the incoming Covenant fleet on screen. “—is bad, wait until you hear this. It gets worse.”


Chapter Thirty-Four 0558 HOURS, AUGUST 30, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / UNSC PILLAR OF AUTUMN, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM The mission had just encountered another snag. It never entered the Master Chief’s mind that he would fail to achieve his objectives. He had to succeed. Failure meant death for not only himself, but for all the Spartans… every human. He stood at the view screen in the cargo bay and reread the priority Alpha transmission Captain Keyes had sent down: ALPHA PRIORITY CHANNEL: TO FLEET ADMIRALTY FROM REACH SPACE DOCK QUARTERMASTER AI–8575 (A.K.A. DOPPLER) / /TRIPLE-ENCRYPTION TIME-STAMPED PUBLIC KEY: RED ROVER RED ROVER/ /START FILE/ IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED ITEM: COVENANT DATA INVASION PACKETS DETECTED PENETRATING FIREWALL OF REACH DOC NET. COUNTERINTRUSION SOFTWARE ENACTED. RESOLUTION: 99.9 PERCENT CERTAINTY OF NEUTRALIZATION. ITEM: INITIALIZATION OF TRIPLE-SCREENING PROTOCOL DISCOVERED THE CORVETTECIRCUMFERENCE/BAY GAMMA-9/ ISOLATED FROM REACH DOC NET. ITEM: COVENANT SHIPS DETECTED ON INBOUND SLIPSTREAM VECTOR INTERSECTING BAY GAMMA-9. CONCLUSION: UNSECURED NAVIGATION DATA ON THECIRCUMFERENCE DETECTED BY COVENANT FORCES. CONCLUSION: VIOLATION OF THE COLE PROTOCOL. IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. /END FILE/ He replayed the distress call from Reach’s groundside FLEETCOM HQ. “… They’ve breached the perimeter. Fall back! Fall back! If anyone can hear this: the Covenant is groundside. Massing near the armory… they’re—” The Master Chief copied these files and sent them over his squad’s COM channel. They had a right to know everything, too. There was only one reason the Covenant would launch a ground invasion: to take out the planetary defense generators. If they succeeded, Reach would fall. And there was only one reason why the Covenant wanted the ship Circumference—to plunder its NAV database—and find every human world, including Earth. Captain Keyes appeared on the view screen. He held his pipe in one hand, squeezing it so tight his knuckles were white. “Master Chief, I believe the Covenant will use a pinpoint Slipspace jump to a position just off the space dock. They may try to get their troops on the station before the Super MAC guns can take out their ships. This will be a difficult mission, Chief. I’m… open to suggestions.” “We can take care of it,” the Master Chief replied. Captain Keyes’ eyes widened and he leaned forward in his command chair. “How exactly, Master Chief?” “With all due respect, sir, Spartans are trained to handle difficult missions. I’ll split my squad. Three will board the space dock and make sure that NAV data does not fall into the Covenant’s hands. The remainder of the Spartans will go groundside and repel the invasion forces.” Captain Keyes considered this. “No, Master Chief, it’s too risky. We’ve got to make sure the Covenant doesn’t get that NAV data. We’ll use a nuclear mine, set it close to the docking ring, and detonate it.” “Sir, the EMP will burn out the superconductive coils of the orbital guns. And if you use the Pillar of Autumn’s conventional weapons, the NAV database may still survive.


If the Covenant search the wreckage—they may obtain the data.” “True,” Keyes said, and tapped his pipe thoughtfully on his chin. “Very well, Master Chief. We’ll go with your suggestion. I’ll plot a course over the docking station. Ready your Spartans and prep two dropships. We’ll launch you—” he consulted with Cortana “—in five minutes.” “Aye, Captain. We’ll be ready.” “Good luck,” Captain Keyes said, and snapped off the view screen. Luck. The Master Chief always had been lucky. He’d need luck more than ever this time. He turned to face the Spartans… his Spartans. They stood at attention. Kelly stepped forward. “Master Chief sir, permission to lead the space op, sir.” “Denied,” he said. “I’ll be leading that one.” He appreciated her gesture. The space operation would be ten times more dangerous than the ground op. The Covenant would outnumber them ten to one—or more—but the Spartans were used to taking the fight against numerically superior enemies. They had always won on the ground. The extraction of the Circumference database, however, would be in vacuum and zero gravity—and they might have to fight their way past a Covenant warship to reach the objective. Not exactly ideal conditions. “Linda and James,” he said. “You’re with me. Fred, you’re Red Team Leader. You’ll have tactical command of the ground operation.” “Sir!” Fred shouted. “Yes, sir.” “Now make ready,” he said. “We don’t have much time left.” The Master Chief regretted his unfortunate choice of words. The Spartans stood a moment. Kelly called out, “Attention!” They snapped to and gave the Master Chief a crisp salute. He stood straighter and returned their salute. He was intensely proud of them all. The Spartans scattered and gathered their gear, racing for the dropship bay. The Master Chief watched them go. This was the mission the Spartans had been tempered for in mission after mission. It would be their finest moment… but he knew that it might also be their last moment. Chief Mendez had said that a leader would be required to spend the lives of those under his command. The Master Chief knew he would lose comrades today—but would their deaths serve a necessary purpose… or would they be wasted? Either way, they were ready. * * * John tapped the thrusters and rotated the Pelican dropship 180 degrees. He pushed the engines to full power to brake their forward momentum. The Pillar of Autumn had dropped them while she had been cruising at one-third full speed. They’d need every millimeter of the ten thousand kilometers between them and the docking station to slow down. The Master Chief had taken the Spartans’ modified Pelican, rigged with explosives. The station would be locked down—every airlock sealed. They’d have to blast their way in. He glanced aft. Linda checked one of the three sniper rifle variants she had brought. James inspected his thruster pack. He had picked Linda because no other single Spartan was as efficient at long-range combat.


And that’s what the Master Chief wanted: long-range combat. If it came to hand-to-hand combat in zero gee with hordes of Covenant troopers… even his luck wouldn’t hold out too long. He had picked James because James had never quit. Even when his hand had been burned off, he had shrugged off the shock—at least for a while—and helped them dispatch the Covenant behemoths on Sigma Octanus IV. The Master Chief would need that kind of determination on this mission. He took a long look out the front of the Pelican. Their sister dropship initiated a burn and hurtled toward Reach. Kelly, Fred, Joshua… all of them. Part of him longed to join them in the ground action. The radar panel blinked a proximity warning; the Pelican was one thousand kilometers from the docking ring. The Master Chief tapped the thrusters to align the dropship. He squelched the proximity alert. The alert immediately re-sounded. Strange. He reached for the squelch again—then stopped as he saw the space around the Pelican change. Motes of green light appeared, pinpoints at first, which swelled like bruises on velvet black space. The green smears lengthened, compressed, and distorted the stars. —a Slipstream entry point. The Master Chief cut the Pelican’s engines, slowing them for impact. A Covenant frigate materialized a kilometer from the dropship’s nose. Its prow filed their view screen.


Chapter Thirty-Five 0616 HOURS, AUGUST 30, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / UNSC PELICAN DROPSHIP, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM NEAR REACH STATION GAMMA “Brace for maneuvering!” the Master Chief barked. The Spartans dove for safety harnesses and strapped in. “All secure!” Linda shouted. The Master Chief killed the Pelican’s forward thrusters and triggered a short, sudden reverse burn. The Spartans were brutally slammed forward into their harnesses as the Pelican’s acceleration bled away. The Master Chief quickly shut down the engines. The tiny Pelican faced the Covenant frigate. At a kilometer’s distance, the alien ship’s launch bay and pulse laser turrets looked close enough to touch on the view screen; enough firepower to vaporize the Spartans in the blink of an eye. The Master Chief’s first instinct was to fire their HE Anvil-II missiles and autocannons—but he checked his hand as he reached for the triggers. That would only attract their attention… which was the last thing he wanted. For the moment, the alien vessel ignored them—probably because the Master Chief had shut down the Pelican’s engines. But the ship also seemed dead in space: no lights, no single ships launched, and no plasma weapons charging. The dropship continued toward the docking station, their momentum putting distance between them and the frigate. Space around the Covenant ship boiled and pulled apart—and two more alien ships appeared. They, too, ignored the dropship. Was it too small to bother with? The Master Chief didn’t care. His luck, it seemed, was holding. He checked the radar—thirty kilometers to the docking ring. He ignited the engines to slow them down. He had to or they would crash into the station. Twenty kilometers. Rumbling shook the dropship. They slowed—but it wasn’t going to be enough. Ten kilometers. “Hang on,” he told Linda and James. The sudden impact whiplashed the Master Chief back and forth in his seat. The straps holding him snapped. He blinked… saw only blackness. His vision cleared and he noted that his shield bar was dead. It slowly began to fill again. Every display and monitor in the cockpit had shattered. The Master Chief shook off the disorientation and pulled himself aft. The interior of the dropship was a mess. Everything tied down had come loose. Ammunition boxes had broken open in the crash landing and loose carriages filled the air. Coolant leaked, spraying blobs of black fluid. In zero gravity, everything looked like the inside of a shaken snowglobe. James and Linda floated off the deck of the Pelican. They slowly moved. “Any injuries?” the Master Chief asked. “No,” Linda replied. “I think so,” James said. “I mean, no. I’m good, sir. Was that a landing or did those Covenant ships take a shot at us?” “If they had, we wouldn’t be here to talk about it. Get whatever gear you can and get out, double time,” the Master Chief said. The Master Chief grabbed an assault rifle and a Jackhammer launcher. He found a satchel.


Inside was a kilogram of C-12, detonators, and a Lotus antitank mine. Those would come in handy. He salvaged five intact clips of ammunition but couldn’t locate his thruster pack. He’d have to do without one. “No more time,” he said. “We’re sitting ducks here. Out the hatch now.” Linda went first. She paused, and—once she was satisfied the Covenant weren’t lying in ambush—motioned them forward. The Master Chief and James exited, clung to the side of the Pelican in zero gravity, and took flanking positions at the fore and aft ends of the dropship. Space dock Gamma was a three-kilometer-diameter ring. Dull gray metal arced in either direction. On the surface were communications dishes and a few conduits—no real cover. The docking bay doors were sealed tight. The station wasn’t spinning. The dockmaster AI must have shut the place up tight when it detected the unsecured NAV database. The Master Chief frowned when he spotted the tail end of their Pelican—crumpled and embedded into the station’s hull. Its engines were ruined. The dropship jutted out at an angle; its prow and the charges of C-12 that were supposed to have blasted them into a Covenant ship—now pointed into the air. The Master Chief started to drift off the station. He clipped himself to the hull of the dropship. “Blue-Two,” he said, “police those explosives.” He gestured to the prow. The motion sent him gyrating. “Yes, sir.” James puffed his thruster pack once and drifted up to the nose of the Pelican. The Spartans had trained to fight in zero gravity. It wasn’t easy. The slightest motion sent you spinning out of control. A flash overhead reflected off the hull. The Master Chief looked up. The Covenant ships were alive now—lances of blue laser fire flashed and motes of red light collected on their lateral lines. Their engines glowed and they moved close to the station. A streak crossed the Master Chief’s field of vision in the blink of an eye. The center Covenant frigate shields strobed silver; the ship shattered into a cloud of glistening fragments. The orbital guns had turned and fired on the new threat. This was a suicide maneuver. How did the Covenant think they could withstand that kind of firepower? “Blue-One,” the Master Chief said. “Scan those ships with your scope.” Linda floated closer to the Master Chief. She pointed her sniper rifle up and sighted the ships. “We’ve got inbound targets,” she said, and fired. The Master Chief hit his magnification. A dozen pods burst from the two remaining Covenant ships. Trails of exhaust pointed right at the Spartans’ position. There were tiny specks accompanying the pods; the Master Chief increased his display’s magnification to maximum. They looked like men in thruster packs— No, they were definitely not men. These things had elongated heads—and even at this distance, the Master Chief could see past their faceplates and noted their pronounced sharklike teeth and jaws.


They wore armor; it shimmered as they collided with debris—which meant energy shields. These were Elites—the iron heart of the Covenant. Would they best the Spartans this time? They were all about to find out. Linda shot one of the EVA aliens. Shields shimmered around its body and the round bounced off. She didn’t stop. She pumped four more rounds into the creature—hitting a pinpoint target in its neck. Its shields flickered and a round got through. Purple blood gushed from the wound and the creature writhed in space. The other aliens spotted them. They jetted toward their location, firing plasma rifles and needlers. “Take cover,” the Master Chief said. He unclipped himself and clung to the side of the dropship. Linda followed—bolts of fire spattering on the hull next to them, spattering molten metal. Crystalline needles bounced off their shields “Blue-Two,” the Master Chief said. “I said fall back.” James almost had the explosives rigged to the nose free. A shower of needles hit him. One stuck the tank of his thruster harness—penetrated. It remained embedded for a split second… then exploded. Exhaust billowed from the pack. The uncontrolled jets spun James in the microgravity. He slammed into the station, bounced—then rocketed away into space, tumbling end over end, unable to control his trajectory. “Blue-Two! Come in,” the Master Chief barked over the COM channel. “Can—control—” James’ voice was punctuated with static. “They’ve—everywhere—” There was more static and the COM channel went dead. The Master Chief watched his teammate tumble away into the darkness. All his training, his superhuman strength, reflexes, and determination… completely useless against the laws of physics. He didn’t even know if James was dead. For the moment, he had to assume that he was—put him out of his mind. He had a mission to complete. If he survived, then he’d get every UNSC ship in the area to mount a search and rescue op. Linda shrugged out of her thruster harness. The suppressing fire from the aliens halted. Covenant landing pods descended toward the station, touching down at roughly three-hundred-meter intervals. A pod landed twenty meters away. Its sides uncurled like the petals of a flower. Jackals in black-and-blue vacuum suits drifted out. Their boots adhered to the station’s hull. “Let’s pave a path out of here, Blue-One.” “Roger that,” she said. Linda targeted spots their energy shields didn’t cover—boots, the top of one’s head, a fingertip. Three Jackals went down in quick succession, their spacesuits ruptured by her marksmanship. The rest scrambled for cover inside the pod. The Master Chief braced his back against the dropship and fired his assault rifle in controlled bursts. The microgravity played havoc with his aim. One Jackal leaped from his cover—straight towards them. The Master Chief switched to full auto and blasted his shield with enough rounds to send the alien flying backward off the station. He spent the clip, reloaded, and got out a grenade. He pulled the pin and lobbed it.


He threw it in a flat trajectory. The grenade ricocheted off the far side of the pod and bounced inside. It detonated—a flash and spray of freeze-dried blue vented upward. The explosion had caught the enemy on their unshielded sides. “Blue-One, secure that landing pod. I’ll cover you.” He leveled his rifle. “Yes, sir.” Linda grabbed a pipe that ran along the station and pulled herself hand over hand. When she was inside the pod, she flashed him a green light on his heads-up display. The Master Chief crawled toward the prow of the Pelican. As he crested the ship he saw that the station was swarming with Covenant troops: a hundred Jackals and at least six Elites. They pointed toward the Pelican and slowly started to advance on their position. “Come and get it,” the Master Chief muttered. He pulled two grenades from his satchel and wedged them into the C-12 on the nose of the ship. He pushed off and propelled himself back to his teammate. She grabbed him and pulled him into the interior of the open pod. Bits of a dozen dead Jackals pasted the inside. “You’ve got a new target,” he told her. “A pair of frag grenades. Sight on them and wait for my order to fire.” She propped her rifle on the edge of the open pod and aimed. Jackals crawled over the Pelican—one of the Elites appeared as well, maneuvering in a harness, flying over the ship. The Elite gestured imperiously, directing the Jackals to search the ship. “Fire,” the Master Chief said. Linda fired once. The grenades detonated; the chain reaction set off the twenty kilograms of C-12. A subsonic fist slammed into the Master Chief and threw him to the far side of the landing pod. Even twenty meters away, the sides of the craft warped and the top edges sheared away. He looked over the edge. There was a crater where the Pelican had been. If anything had survived that blast, it was now in orbit. “We have a way in,” the Master Chief remarked. Linda nodded. In the distance, where the station curved out of view, more Covenant pods landed—and the Master Chief saw the silhouettes of hundreds of Jackals and Elites crawling and jetting their way closer. “Let’s go, Blue-One.” They pulled themselves toward the hole. The detonation had blown through five decks, leaving a tunnel of ragged-edged metal and sputtering gas hoses. The Master Chief called up the station’s blueprints on his display. “That one,” he said, and pointed two decks down. “B level. That’s where bay nine and the Circumference should be, three hundred meters to port.” They climbed into the interior and into B deck’s corridor. The station’s emergency lights were on, filling the passage with dull red illumination. The Master Chief paused and signaled her to halt. He pulled out the Lotus antitank mine from his satchel and set it on the deck.


He set the sensitivity to maximum and triggered its proximity detectors. Anything that tried to follow them would get a surprise. The Master Chief and Linda gripped the handrails along the corridor and pulled themselves up the curved hall. Flashes of automatic-weapons fire flashed in the low light, just ahead of their position. “Blue-One,” the Master Chief said, “Ahead, ten meters—there’s a pressure door open.” They quickly took positions on either side of the door. He sent his optical probe around the corner. The docking bay had a dozen ship berths on two levels. The Master Chief spotted a few battered Pelicans; a station service bot; and in berth eleven, a sleek private craft held in place by massive service clamps. Where the ship’s name should have been painted on the prow there was only a simple circle. That had to be the target. Two berths aft, four Marines in vac suits were pinned down by plasma and needler fire. The Master Chief turned his optical probe and saw what was pinning them down: thirty Jackals were in the forward portion of the bay, slowly advancing, under cover of their energy shields. The Marines tossed frag grenades. The Jackals scrambled for cover and turned their shields. Three silent explosions flashed in the vacuum. Not one of the Jackals fell. Another explosion rippled through the deck—behind them. It shook the Master Chief’s bones in his armor. The Lotus mine had detonated. They didn’t have much time before the Covenant force outside caught up with them. The Master Chief readied his assault rifle. “Take those Jackals out, Blue-One. I’ll make a break for the Circumference.” Linda gripped the edge of the pressure door with her left hand, propped her rifle across it, and curled her right hand around the trigger. “There are a lot of them,” she said. “This may take a few seconds.” A flicker of a contact appeared on the Master Chief’s motion tracker—then vanished. He turned and brought his assault rifle to bear. Nothing. “Hang on, Blue-One. I’m going to check our six.” Linda’s acknowledgment light winked on. The Master Chief eased back down the passage ten meters. No sensor contact. There was just dim red light and shadows… but one of the shadows moved. It only took an instant for the image to fully register: a black film peeled away from the darkness. It was a meter taller than John and wore blue armor similar to that on Covenant warships. Its helmet was elongated and it had rows of sharp teeth; it looked like it was smiling at him. The Elite leveled a plasma pistol. At this range, there was no way the creature would miss—the plasma weapon would cut through John’s slowly recharging shields almost immediately. And if John used his assault rifle, it wouldn’t cut through the alien’s energy shield. In a simple exchange of fire, the alien would win. Unacceptable. He needed to change the odds.


The Master Chief pushed off the wall and launched himself at the creature. He slammed into the Elite before it had a chance to fire. They tumbled backward and crashed into the bulkhead. The Master Chief saw the alien’s shield flicker and fade— —he hammered on the edge of the alien’s gun. The creature howled soundlessly in the vacuum and dropped the plasma weapon. The Elite kicked him in the midsection; his shield took the brunt of the attack, but the blow sent him spinning end over end. He slapped his hand against the ceiling and stalled his spin—then dove under the Elite’s follow-up attack. The Master Chief tried to grab the alien—but their weakened shields slid and crackled over one another. They bounced down the curved length of the passage. The Master Chief’s boot caught on a railing, twisted—a lance of pain shot up his leg—but he halted their combined momentum. The Elite pushed away and caught a railing on the opposite side of the passage. Then it turned and sprang back toward the Master Chief. John ignored the pain in his leg. He pushed himself at the alien. They collided—the Master Chief struck with both fists, but the force slid off the Elite’s shields. The Elite grabbed him and threw him. They both spun into the wall. The Master Chief was pinned—perfect: he had something to brace against in the zero gravity. He swung his fist, used every muscle in his body, and connected with the alien’s midsection. Its shield shimmered and crackled but some of the momentum transferred. The alien doubled over and reeled backwards— —and its hands found the plasma weapon that it had dropped. The Elite recovered quickly and aimed at the Master Chief. The Master Chief jumped, grabbed its wrist. He locked his armor’s glove articulation—it became a vise clamp. They wrestled for control. The gun pointed at the alien—then the Master Chief. The alien was as strong as the Master Chief. They spun and bounced off the floor, ceiling, and walls. They were too evenly matched. The Master Chief managed to force a stalemate: the pistol now pointed straight up between their bodies. If it went off it would hit them both—one shot at point-blank range might collapse their shields. They’d both fry. The Master Chief whipped his forearm and elbow over the creature’s wrist and slammed it in the head. For a split second it was stunned and its strength ebbed. John turned the gun into its face—squeezed the firing mechanism. The plasma discharge exploded into the creature. Fire sprayed across its shields; they shimmered, flickered, and dimmed. The energy splash washed over the Master Chief; his shields drained to a quarter. The internal suit temperature spiked to critical levels. But the Elite’s shields were dead. He didn’t wait for the plasma gun to recharge.


The Fall of Reach -- Nylund, Eric S_ -- Halo en 1, 2001 -- ePubLibre -- c9ac8e2f4e1adc3ba1e720ba6cdbd1fd -- Anna’s Archive.7

The Master Chief grabbed the creature with his left hand—his right fist struck an uppercut to the head, a hook to the throat and chest, three rapid-fire strikes with his forearm to its helmet—that cracked and hissed atmosphere. The Master Chief pushed away and fired the pistol again. The bolt of fire caught the Elite in the face. It writhed and clawed at nothing. The Elite shuddered… suspended in midair; it twitched and finally stopped moving. The Master Chief shot it again to make sure it was dead. Motion sensors picked up multiple targets approaching down the corridor—forty meters and closing. The Master Chief turned and double-timed it back to Blue-One. Linda was where he left her, shooting her targets with absolute concentration and precision. “There are more on the way,” he told her. “Reinforcements have already arrived in the bay,” she reported. “Twenty, at least. They’re learning, overlapping their shields—can’t get a good shot in.” Static crackled over the Master Chief’s COM channel: “Master Chief, this is Captain Keyes. Did you get the NAV database?” The Captain sounded out of breath. “Negative, sir. We’re close.” “We’re bound in-system to retrieve you. ETA is five minutes. Destroy the Circumference’s database and get out ASAP. If you cannot accomplish your mission… I’ll have to take out the station with the Pillar of Autumn’s weapons. We are running out of time.” “Understood, sir.” The channel snapped off. Captain Keyes was wrong. They weren’t running out of time… time had already run out.


Chapter Thirty-Six 0616 HOURS, AUGUST 30, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / UNSC PILLAR OF AUTUMN, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM NEAR REACH STATION GAMMA The plan started to fall apart almost the instant the Pillar of Autumn launched their Pelican dropships. “Bring us about to heading two seven zero,” Captain Keyes ordered Ensign Lovell. “Aye, Captain,” Lovell said. “Lieutenant Hall, track the dropships’ trajectories.” “Pelican One on target to dock with station Gamma,” Lieutenant Hall reported. “Pelican Two initiating descent burn. They are five by five to land just outside FLEET HQ—” “Captain,” Cortana interrupted. “Spatial disruption behind us.” The view screen snapped to the aft. Black space bubbled with green points of light; the stars in the distance faded and stretched—a Covenant frigate appeared from nowhere. “Lieutenant Dominique,” Captain Keyes barked, “notify FLEETCOM that we have unwanted visitors in the backyard. I respectfully suggest they reorient those orbital guns ASAP. Ensign Lovell, turn this ship around and give me maximum power to the engines. Lieutenant Hikowa, prepare to fire the MAC gun and arm Archer missile pods B1 through B7.” The crew jumped to their tasks. The Pillar of Autumn spun about, her engines flared, and she slowly came to a halt. The ship started back toward the new Covenant threat. “Sir,” Cortana said. “Spatial disruptions increasing exponentially.” Two more Covenant frigates appeared, flanking the first ship. As soon as they exited Slipstream space—a white-hot line streaked across the blackness. A Super MAC gun had targeted them and fired. The Covenant ship only existed for a moment longer. Its shields flashed and the hull blasted into fragments. “They’re powered down,” Captain Keyes said. “No lights, no plasma weapons charging, no lasers. What are they doing?” “Perhaps,” Cortana said, “their pinpoint jumps require all their energy reserves.” “A weakness?” Captain Keyes mused. “Not for long,” Cortana replied. “Covenant energy levels climbing.” The two remaining Covenant ships powered up—lights snapped on, engines glowed, and motes of red light appeared and streamed along their lateral lines. “Entering optimal firing range,” Lieutenant Hikowa announced. “Targeting solutions computer for both ships, Captain.” “Target the port vessel with our MAC gun,” Lieutenant Hikowa. “Ready Archer missiles for the starboard target. Let’s hope we can draw their fire.” Lieutenant Hikowa typed in the commands. “Ready, sir.” “Fire.” The Pillar of Autumn’s MAC gun fired three times. Thunder roiled up from the ventral decks. Archer missiles snaked through space toward the Covenant frigate on the starboard edge of the enemy formation. The Covenant ships fired… but not at the Pillar of Autumn. Plasma bolts launched toward the two closest orbital guns. The Pillar of Autumn’s MAC rounds struck the Covenant ship once, twice. Their shields flared, glowed, and dimmed. The third round struck clean and penetrated her hull aft—sent the ship spinning counterclockwise. The orbital MAC guns fired again—a streak of silver and the port Covenant vessel shattered—a split second later, the starboard ship exploded, too.


But their plasma torpedoes continued toward their targets, splashing across two of the orbital defense platforms. The guns melted and collapsed into boiling molten spheres in the microgravity. Thirteen guns left, Captain Keyes thought. Not exactly a lucky number. “Lieutenant Dominique,” he said, “request FLEETCOM to send all arriving vessels in-system to take up defense positions near our guns. The Covenant is willing to sacrifice a ship for one of our orbital guns. Advise them the Covenant ships appear to be dead in space for a few seconds after they execute a pinpoint jump.” “Got it, sir,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “Message away.” “Lieutenant Hikowa,” Captain Keyes said. “Send the destruction codes to those wild missiles we launched.” “Aye, sir.” “Belay that,” Captain Keyes said. Something didn’t feel right. “Lieutenant Hall, scan the region for anything unusual.” “Scanning, sir,” she said. “There are millions of hull fragments; radar is useless. Thermal is off the charts—everything is hot out there.” She paused, leaned closer, and a hank of her blond hair fell into her face, but she didn’t brush it aside. “Reading motion toward Gamma station, sir. Landing pods.” “Lieutenant Hikowa,” Keyes said. “Repurpose those Archer missiles. New targets—link with Lieutenant Hall for coordinates.” “Yes, Captain,” they said in unison. “Diversion, distraction, and deceit,” Captain Keyes said. “The Covenant’s tactics are almost getting predictable.” A hundred pinpoints of fire dotted the distant space as their missiles found Covenant targets. “Picking up activity just out of the effective range of our orbital guns,” Cortana said. “Show me,” Captain Keyes said. The titanic Covenant vessel Keyes had seen before was back. It fired its brilliant blue-white beam—a lance across space—that struck the destroyer Herodotus, one hundred thousand kilometers distant. The beam cut clean through the ship, stem to stern, bisecting her. “Christ,” Ensign Lovell whispered. A salvo of orbital gun rounds fired at this new target… but it was too far away. The ship moved out of the trajectory of the shells. They missed. Another beam flashed from the Covenant vessel. Another ship—a carrier, the Musashi—was severed amidships as it moved to cover the orbital guns. The aft section of the ship continued to thrust forward, her engines still running hot. “They’re going to sniper our ships,” Keyes said. “Leave us nothing to fortify Reach.” He took out his pipe and tapped it in the palm of his hand. “Ensign Lovell. Plot an intercept course. Engines to maximum. We’re going to take that ship out.” “Sir?” Lovell sat straighter. “Yes, sir. Plotting course now.” Cortana appeared on the holographic display. “I assume you have another brilliant navigational maneuver to evade this enemy, Captain.” “I thought I’d fly straight in, Cortana… and let you do the driving.” “Straight? You are joking.” Logic symbols streamed up her body. “I never joke when it comes to navigation,” Captain Keyes said. “You will monitor the energy state of that ship.


The instant you detect a buildup in their reactors, a spike of particle emissions—anything—you fire our emergency thrusters to throw off their aim.” Cortana nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “Their weapon does travel at light speed. There won’t be much time to—” A bang resonated through their portside hull. Captain Keyes flew sideways. Blue-white light flashed on their port view screen. “One shot missed,” Cortana replied. Captain Keyes stood up and straightened his uniform. “Ready MAC gun, Lieutenant Hikowa. Arm Archer missile pods C1 through E7. Give me a firing solution for missile impact on our last MAC round.” Lieutenant Hikowa arched an eyebrow. She had good reason to be dubious. They would be firing more than five hundred missiles at a single target. “Solution online, sir. Guns hot and ready.” “Distance, Lieutenant Hall?” “Closing in on extreme range for MAC guns, sir. In four… three…” An explosion to starboard and the Pillar of Autumn jumped. Keyes was braced this time. “Fire, Lieutenant Hikowa. Send them back where they belong.” “Missiles away, sir. Waiting to coordinate MAC rounds.” Blue lightning washed out the view screen. Dull thumps sounded through the Pillar of Autumn like a string of fire-crackers going off. The ship listed to port, and it started to roll. “We’re hit!” Lieutenant Hall said. “Decompression on Decks C, D, and E. Sections two through twenty-seven. Venting atmosphere. Reactor’s damaged, sir.” She listened to her headset. “Can’t get a clear report of what’s going on belowdecks. We’re losing power.” “Seal those sections. Lieutenant Hikowa, do we have gun control?” “Affirmative.” “Then fire at will, Lieutenant.” The Pillar of Autumn shuddered as its MAC gun fired. Pings and groans diffused though her damaged hull. A trio of white-hot projectiles appeared on the view screen, chasing the Archer missiles toward their intended target. The first round struck the Covenant ship; its shields rippled. The second and third rounds struck, and more than five hundred missiles detonated along her length. Flame dotted the massive vessel, and her shields blazed solid silver. They faded and popped. A dozen missiles impacted her hull and exploded, scarring the bluish armor. “Minimal damage to the target, sir,” Lieutenant Hall reported. “But we downed their shields,” Captain Keyes said. “We can hurt them. That’s all I needed to know. Lieutenant Hikowa, make ready to fire again. Identical targeting solution. Lieutenant Hall, launch our remote-piloted Longsword interceptor and arm its Shiva nuclear warhead. Cortana, take control of the single ship.” Cortana tapped her foot. “Longsword away,” she said. “Where do you want me to park this thing?” “Intercept course for the Covenant ship,” he told her. “Sir,” Lieutenant Hikowa cried. “We have an insufficient charge rate to fire the MAC guns.” “Understood,” Captain Keyes said. “Divert all power from the engines to regenerate gun capacitors.” “May I point out—” Cortana said and crossed her arms.


“—that if you power down the engines, we will be inside the blast radius of the Shiva warhead when it reaches the Covenant ship?” “Noted,” Captain Keyes said. “Do it.” “Capacitors at seventy-five percent,” Lieutenant Hikowa announced. “Eighty-five. Ninety-five. Full charge, sir. Ready to fire.” “Fire at will,” Captain Keyes ordered. “Missiles away—” A javelin of blue-white energy from the Covenant ship slashed at the Pillar of Autumn. The beam struck, and cut through the hull. The Pillar of Autumn slid into a flat spin as the explosive decompression knocked the ship off course. As the Autumn spun, the Covenant energy beam carved a spiral pattern in the hull, shredding armor and puncturing deep into the ship. The ship lurched sickeningly as the beam played across the portside Archer pods; the missiles detonated in their tubes. Keyes was nearly thrown from the command chair as the deck bucked beneath him. He tightened his safety straps and scowled at the tactical displays. “Damage report!” he yelled, his voice competing with the dozens of hazard alarms that blared through the bridge speakers. Cortana brought up a holographic view of the ship and flagged damaged areas in pulsing red. “Port launch and storage bays have been breached—fires on all decks, all sections. Primary fusion chamber is breached.” The Pillar of Autumn tumbled out of control. “Cortana, get us straight and level. We have to fire our guns!” “Yes, Captain.” Her body became a blur of mathematical symbols. “This is an extremely chaotic trajectory,” she said. “Atmosphere still venting. Hang on. There. Got it.” The Pillar of Autumn righted herself. The Covenant ship centered on the main view screen. This close, Captain Keyes saw how huge the ship was—three times the mass of a normal cruiser. There was a pod mounted on the top deck; it swiveled and tracked the Pillar of Autumn, bringing the turret to bear. It glowed electric white as it built up another lethal charge. “Fire when ready, Lieutenant Hikowa,” Captain Keyes ordered. “Firing!” Thunder rumbled belowdecks. “MAC rounds away.” The shells struck the Covenant vessel; Archer missiles impacted… only a handful got though her downed shields. “Cortana, crash-land our Longsword on that bastard. Set timer delay on the nuke for fifteen seconds.” “Afterburners on,” Cortana replied. “Impact in three… two… one. She’s down, sir.” The Pillar of Autumn sped past the Covenant ship. “Lieutenant Hall, divert any power you can muster to the engines.” “Bringing secondary reactor back online, sir. That gives us fifteen percent.” “Aft camera on center screen,” Captain Keyes ordered. The Covenant ship slowly turned toward the Pillar of Autumn and its turret tracked their position. For the first time in his life, Keyes prayed that a Covenant ship’s shields would hold. The alien ship became a flash of white light; its outline blurred. Their shields held for a split second as the Shiva war-head detonated inside its protective aura. The shockwave rebounded off the asymmetrical shape of the shields just before their collapse.


Jets of energy exploded outward at three different angles. Thunder and plasma roiled into space… cleanly missing the Pillar of Autumn. The light faded and the Covenant flagship was gone. Captain Keyes puffed again on his pipe and tapped it out. Maybe now they had a chance to rally what remained of the UNSC fleet and defend Reach. “Congratulations Captain,” Cortana said. “I couldn’t have done better myself.” “Thank you, Cortana. Is there a planet nearby?” “Beta Gabriel,” she said. “Fourteen million kilometers. Practically next door.” “Good. Ensign Lovell, plot a course for a slingshot orbit. Reverse our trajectory back in-system.” “Sir,” Lieutenant Dominique interrupted. “Incoming transmission from Reach. It’s the Spartans.” “On speakers, Lieutenant.” Static hissed from the channel. A man’s voice broke through. “—bad. Reactor complex seven has been compromised. We’re falling back. Might be able to save number three. Set off those charges now!” There was a series of explosions… more white noise, then the man returned. “Be advised Pillar of Autumn, groundside reactors are being taken. Orbital guns at risk. Nothing we can do. Too many. We will have to use the nukes—” Static washed away the transmission. “Captain,” Cortana said. “You need to see this, sir.” She overlaid a tactical map of the system on the main view screen. Tiny triangular red markers winked on the edges: Covenant ships—dozens of them—reentered the system from Slipspace. “Sir,” she said, “when the guns around Reach go down…” “There will be nothing left to stop the Covenant,” he finished. Captain Keyes turned to Lieutenant Dominique. “Get those Spartans back online,” he said. “Tell them to evac ASAP. In a few minutes, it’s going to get very nasty around Reach.” He took a deep breath. “Then raise the Master Chief on a secure channel. Let’s hope he has some good news for us.”


Chapter Thirty-Seven 0637 HOURS, AUGUST 30, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM, REACH STATION GAMMA “Multiple signals on motion tracker,” the Master Chief said. “They’re all around us.” The passageway behind the Master Chief and Blue-One swarmed with blips. So did docking Bay Nine, ahead of them. The Master Chief saw, however, not all the blips were hostiles. Four Marine friend-or-foe tags strobed on his heads-up display: SGT. JOHNSON, PVT. O’BRIEN, PVT. BISENTI, and PVT. JENKINS. The Master Chief opened up a COM channel to them. “Listen up, Marines. Your lines of fire are sloppy; tighten them up. Concentrate on one Jackal at a time—or you’ll just waste your ammo on their shields.” “Master Chief?” Sergeant Johnson said, startled. “Sir, yes sir!” “Blue-One,” the Master Chief said. “I’m going in. We’re going to open up the Circumference like a tin can.” He nodded toward the Pelican in the adjacent bay. “Give me a few grenades over the top.” “Understood,” she replied. “You’re covered, sir.” She primed two frag grenades, swung around the pressure doors, and threw them behind the Jackals. The Master Chief pushed off the wall—propelled himself in the zero gee across the bay. The grenades detonated and caught the Jackals on their backsides. Blue blood spattered on the insides of their shields and across the deck. The Master Chief crashed into the Pelican’s hull. He pulled himself to the side hatch, opened it, and crawled in. He got into the cockpit, released the docking clamps, and tapped the maneuvering thrusters once to break free. The Pelican lifted off the deck. The Master Chief said over the COM channel, “Marines and Blue-One: take cover behind me.” He maneuvered the Pelican into the center of the docking bay. A dozen Jackals poured in through the passage that Blue-One had just left. The Master Chief fired with the Pelican’s autocannon—cut down their shields and peppered the aliens with hundreds of rounds. They exploded into chunks; alien blood twisted crazily in zero gravity. “Master Chief,” Linda said, “I’m picking up thousands of signals on the motion tracker, inbound from all directions. The entire station is crawling.” The Master Chief opened the Pelican’s back hatch. “Get in,” he said. Blue-One and the Marines piled inside. The Marines did a double take at Blue-One and the Master Chief in their MJOLNIR armor. The Master Chief turned the Pelican to face the Circumference. He sighted the autocannon on the ship’s forward viewports—and opened fire. Thousands of rounds streamed from the chain-gun and cracked through the thick, transparent windows. He followed up with an Anvil-II missile. It blasted through the prow and peeled the craft open. “Take the controls,” he told Blue-One. He slipped out the side hatch and jumped to the Circumference. The inside of the ship’s cockpit was scrap metal. He accessed the computer panel in the floor deck and located the NAV database core. It was a cube of memory crystal the size of his thumb.


Such a tiny thing to cause so much trouble. He shot it three times with his assault rifle. It shattered. “Mission completed,” he said. One small victory in all this mess. The Covenant wouldn’t find Earth… today. He exited the Circumference. Jackals appeared on the level above them in the docking bay. His motion tracker blinked with solid contacts. He jumped back into the Pelican, strapped himself in the pilot’s chair, and turned the ship to face the outer doors. “Blue-One, signal the dockmaster AI to open the outer bay doors.” “Signal sent,” she said. “No response, sir.” She looked around. “There’s a manual release by the outer door.” She moved toward the aft hatch. “I’ll get this one, sir. It’s my turn. Cover me.” “Roger, Blue-One. Keep your head down. I’ll draw their fire.” She launched herself out the back hatch. The Master Chief tapped the Pelican’s thrusters and the ship rose higher in the bay—up to the second level. The upper decks were the mechanic bays; the area was littered with ships that were partially disassembled in various stages of repair. It was also where a hundred Jackals and a handful of Elites were waiting for him. They opened fire. Plasma bolts scored the hull of the Pelican. The Master Chief fired the chain-gun and let loose a salvo of missiles. Alien shields blazed and failed. Blue and green blood splashed and flash-froze in the icy vacuum. He hit the top thrusters and dropped down to the lower level—slammed the ship back into a berth for cover. Blue-One crouched by the manual release. The outer doors eased open, revealing the night and stars beyond. “You’re clear for exit, Master Chief. We’re home free—” A new contact on the Pelican’s targeting display appeared—right behind Linda. He had to warn her— A bolt of plasma struck her in the back. Another bolt of fire blazed from the upper decks and splashed across her front. She crumpled—her shields flickered and went out. Two more bolts hit her chest. A third blast smashed into her helmet. “No!” the Master Chief said. He felt each of those plasma bolts as if they had hit him, too. He moved the Pelican to cover her. Plasma struck the hull, melting its outer skin. “Get her inside!” he ordered the Marines. They jumped out, grabbed Linda and her smoldering armor, and pulled her inside the Pelican. The Master Chief sealed the hatch, ignited the engines, and pushed them to full thrust—rocketing into space. “Can you fly this ship?” he asked the Marine Sergeant. “Yes, sir,” Johnson replied. “Take over.” The Master Chief went to Linda and knelt by her side. Sections of her armor had melted and adhered to her. Underneath, in patches, bits of carbonized bone showed. He accessed her vital signs on his heads-up display. They were dangerously low. “Did you do it?” she whispered. “Get the database?” “Yes. We got it.” “Good,” she said.


“We won.” She clasped his hand and closed her eyes. Her vital signs flatlined. John squeezed her hand and let go. “Yes,” he said bitterly. “We won.” “Master Chief, come in.” Captain Keyes’ voice sounded over the COM channel. “The Pillar of Autumn will be in rendezvous position in one minute.” “We’re ready, Captain,” he answered. He set Linda’s hand over her chest. “I’m ready.” * * * The instant the Master Chief docked the Pelican to the Pillar of Autumn, he felt the cruiser accelerate. He took Linda’s body double time to a cryo chamber and immediately froze her. She was clinically dead—there was no doubt of that. Still, if they could get her to a Fleet hospital, they might be able to resuscitate her. It was a long shot—but she was a Spartan. The med techs wanted to check him out as well, but he declined and took the elevator to the bridge to report to Captain Keyes. As he rode inside the lift he felt the ship accelerate port—then starboard. Evasive maneuvers. The elevator doors parted and the Master Chief stepped onto the bridge. He snapped a crisp salute to Captain Keyes. “Reporting for debriefing, sir.” Captain Keyes turned and looked surprised to see him… or maybe he was shocked to see the condition of his armor. It was charred, battered, and covered with alien blood. The Captain returned the Master Chief’s salute. “The NAV database was destroyed?” he asked. “Sir, I would not have left if my mission was incomplete.” “Of course, Master Chief. Very good,” Captain Keyes replied. “Sir, may I ask that you scan for active FOF tags in the region?” The Master Chief glanced at the main view screen—saw scattered fights between Covenant and UNSC warships in the distance. “I lost a man on the station. He may be floating out there… somewhere.” “Lieutenant Hall?” the Captain asked. “Scanning,” she said. After a moment she looked back and shook her head. “I see,” the Master Chief replied. There could be worse deaths… but not for one of his Spartans. Floating helpless. Slowly suffocating and freezing—losing to an enemy that could not be fought. “Sir,” the Master Chief said, “when will the Pillar of Autumn rendezvous with my planetside team?” Captain Keyes turned from the Master Chief and stared out into space. “We won’t be picking them up,” he said quietly. “They were overrun by Covenant forces. They never made orbit. We’ve lost contact with them.” The Master Chief took a step closer. “Then I would like permission to take a dropship and retrieve them, sir.” “Request denied, Master Chief. We still have a mission to perform. And we cannot remain in this system much longer. Lieutenant Dominique, aft camera on the main screen.” Covenant vessels swarmed through the Epsilon Eridani System in five-ship crescent formations. The remaining UNSC ships fled before them… those that could still move. Those ships too damaged to outrun the Covenant were blasted with plasma and laser fire.


The Covenant had won this battle. They were mopping up before they glassed the planet; the Master Chief had seen this happen in a dozen campaigns. This time was different, however. This time the Covenant was glassing a planet… with his people still on it. He tried to think of a way to stop them… to save his teammates. He couldn’t. The Captain turned and strode to the Master Chief, stood by his side. “Dr. Halsey’s mission,” he said, “is more important than ever now. It may be the only chance left for Earth. We have to focus on that goal.” Three dozen Covenant craft moved toward Gamma station and the now inert orbital defense platforms. They bombarded the installations—the mightiest weapons in the UNSC arsenal—with plasma. The guns melted, and boiled away. The Master Chief clenched his hands into fists. The Captain was correct: there was nothing to do now except complete the mission they had set out to do. Captain Keyes barked, “Ensign Lovell, give me our best acceleration. I want to enter Slipstream space as soon as possible.” Cortana said, “Excuse me, Captain. Six Covenant frigates are inbound on an intercept course.” “Continue evasive maneuvers, Cortana. Prepare the Slip-space generators and get me an appropriate randomized exit vector.” “Aye, sir.” Navigation symbols flashed along the length of her holographic body. The Master Chief continued to watch as the Covenant ships closed in on them. Was he the only Spartan left? Better to die than live without his teammates. But he still had a mission: victory against the Covenant—and vengeance for his fallen comrades. “Generating randomized exit vector per the Cole Protocol,” Cortana said. The Master Chief glanced at her translucent body. She looked vaguely like a younger Dr. Halsey. Tiny dots, ones, and zeros slid over her torso, arms, and legs. Her thoughts were literally worn on her sleeve; the symbols also appeared on Ensign Lovell’s NAV station. He cocked his head as the symbols and numbers scrolled across the NAV console. The representations of Slipspace vectors and velocity curves twisted across the screen—tantalizingly familiar. He’d seen them somewhere before—but he could not make the connection. “Something on your mind, Master Chief?” Cortana asked. “Those symbols… I thought I had seen them somewhere before. It’s nothing.” Cortana got a far-off look in her eyes. The marks cycling on her hologram shifted and rearranged. The Master Chief saw the Covenant fleet gathered around planet Reach. They swarmed and circled like sharks. The first of their plasma bombardments launched toward the surface. Clouds in the fire’s path boiled away. “Jump to Slipspace, Ensign Lovell,” the Captain said. “Get us the hell out of here.” John remembered Chief Mendez’s words—that they had to live and fight another day. He was alive… and there was still plenty of fight left in him. And he would win this war—no matter what it took.


Chapter Four 0530 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 24, 2517 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM, REACH MILITARY COMPLEX, PLANET REACH “Wake up, trainee!” John rolled over in his cot and went back to sleep. He was dimly aware that this wasn’t his room, and that there were other people here. A shock jolted him—from his bare feet to the base of his spine. He yelled in surprise and fell off the cot. He shook off the disorientation from being nearly asleep and got up. “I said up, boot! You know which way up is?” A man in a camouflage uniform stood over John. His hair was shorn and gray at his temples. His dark eyes didn’t look human—too big and black and they didn’t blink. He held a silver baton in one hand; he flicked it toward John and it sparked. John backed away. He wasn’t afraid of anything. Only little kids were afraid… but his body instinctively moved as far away from the instrument as possible. Dozens of other men roused the rest of the children. Seventy-four boys and girls screamed and jumped out of their cots. “I am Chief Petty Officer Mendez,” the uniformed man next to John shouted. “The rest of these men are your instructors. You will do exactly as we tell you at all times.” Mendez pointed to the far end of the cinderblock barracks. “Showers are aft. You will all wash and then return here to dress.” He opened a trunk at the foot of John’s cot and pulled out a matching set of gray sweats. John leaned closer and saw his name stenciled on the chest: JOHN-117. “No slacking. On the double!” Mendez tapped John between his shoulder blades with the baton. Lightning surged across John’s chest. He sprawled on the cot and gasped for breath. “I mean it! Go Go GO!” John moved. He couldn’t inhale—but he ran anyway, clutching his chest. He managed a ragged breath by the time he got to the showers. The other kids looked scared and disoriented. They all stripped off their nightshirts and stepped onto the conveyor, washed themselves in lukewarm soapy water, then rinsed in an icy cold spray. He ran back to his bunk, got into underwear, thick socks, pulled on the sweats and a pair of combat boots that fit his feet perfectly. “Outside, trainees,” Mendez announced. “Triple time… march!” John and the others stampeded out of the barracks onto a strip of grass. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the edge of the sky was indigo. The grass was wet with dew. There were dozens of rows of barracks, but no one else was up and outside. A pair of jets roared overhead and arced up into the sky. Far away, John heard a metallic crackle. Chief Petty Officer Mendez barked, “You will make five equal-length rows. Fifteen trainees in each.” He waited a few seconds as they milled about. “Straighten those rows. You know how to count to fifteen, trainee?


Take three steps back.” John stepped into the second row. As he breathed the cold air he began to wake up. He started to remember. They had taken him in the middle of the night. They injected him with something and he slept for a long time. Then the woman who had given him the coin told him he couldn’t go back. That he wouldn’t see his mother or father— “Jumping jacks!” Mendez shouted. “Count off to one hundred. Ready, go.” The officer started the exercise and John followed his lead. One boy refused—for a split-second. An instructor was on him instantly. The baton whipped into the boy’s stomach. The kid doubled over. “Get with the program, boot,” the trainer snarled. The boy uncurled and started jumping. John had never done so many jumping jacks in his life. His arms and stomach and legs burned. Sweat trickled down his back. “Ninety-eight—99—100.” Mendez paused. He drew in a deep breath. “Sit-ups!” He dropped onto the grass. “Count off to one hundred. No slacking.” John threw himself on the ground. “The first crewman who quits,” Mendez said, “gets to run around the compound twice—and then comes back here and does two hundred sit-ups. Ready… count off! One… two… three.…” Deep squats followed. Then knee bends. John threw up, but that didn’t buy him any respite. A trainer descended on him after a few seconds. John rolled back over and continued. “Leg lifts.” Mendez continued like he was a machine. As if they all were machines. John couldn’t go on—but he knew he’d get the baton again if he stopped. He tried; he had to move. His legs trembled and only sluggishly responded. “Rest,” Mendez finally called. “Trainers: get the water.” The trainers wheeled out carts laden with water bottles. John grabbed one and gulped down the liquid. It was warm and slightly salty. He didn’t care. It was the best water he’d ever had. He flopped on his back in the grass and panted. The sun was up now. It was warm. He rolled to his knees and let the sweat drip off him like a heavy rain. He slowly got up and glanced at the other children. They crouched on the ground, holding their sides, and no one talked. Their clothes were soaked through with perspiration. John didn’t recognize anyone from his school here. So he was alone with strangers. He wondered where his mother was, and what— “A good start, trainees,” Mendez told them. “Now we run. On your feet!” The trainers brandished their batons and herded the trainees along. They jogged down a gravel path through the compound, past more cinderblock barracks. The run seemed to go on forever—they ran alongside a river, over a bridge, then by the edge of a runway where jets took off straight into the air. Once past the runway, Mendez led them on a zigzagging path of stone.


John wanted to think about what had happened, how he got here, and what was going to happen next… but he couldn’t think straight. All he could feel was the blood pounding through him, the ache in his muscles, and hunger. They ran into a courtyard of smooth flagstones. A pole in the center flew the colors of the UNSC, a blue field with stars and Earth in the corner. At the far end of the yard was a building with a scalloped dome and white columns and dozens of wide steps leading to the entrance. The words NAVAL OFFICERS ACADEMY were chiseled into the arch over the entrance. A woman stood on the top step and beckoned to them. She wore a white sheet wrapped around her body. She looked old to John, yet young at the same time. Then he saw the motes of light orbiting her head and knew she was an AI. He had seen them on vids. She wasn’t solid, but she was still real. “Excellent work, Chief Petty Officer Mendez,” she said in a resonant, silk-smooth voice. She turned to the children. “Welcome. My name is Déjà and I will be your teacher. Please come in. Class is about to start.” John groaned out loud. Several of the others grumbled, too. She turned and started to walk inside. “Of course,” she said, “if you prefer to skip your lessons, you may continue the morning calisthenics.” John double-timed it up the steps. It was cool inside. A tray with crackers and a carton of milk had been laid out for each of them. John nibbled on the dry stale food, then gulped down his milk. John was so tired he wanted to lay his head down on the desk and take a nap—until Déjà started to tell them about a battle and how three hundred soldiers fought against thousands of Persian infantry. A holographic countryside appeared in the classroom. The children walked around the miniature mountains and hills and let the edge of the illusionary sea lap at their boots. Toy-sized soldiers marched toward what Déjà explained was Thermopylae, a narrow strip of land between steep mountains and the sea. Thousands of soldiers marched toward the three hundred who guarded the pass. The soldiers fought: spears and shields splintered, swords flashed and spilled blood. John couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle. Déjà explained that the three hundred were Spartans and they were the best soldiers who had ever lived. They had been trained to fight since they were children. No one could beat them. John watched, fascinated, as the holographic Spartans slaughtered the Persian spearmen. He had eaten his crackers but he was still hungry, so he took the girl’s next to him when she wasn’t looking, and munched them down as the battle raged on. His stomach still growled and grumbled. When was lunch? Or was it dinnertime already? The Persians broke and ran and the Spartans stood victorious on the field.


The children cheered. They wanted to see it again. “That’s all for today,” Déjà said. “We’ll continue tomorrow and I’ll show you some wolves. Now it’s time for you to go to the playground.” “Playground?” John said. That was perfect. He could finally just sit on a swing, relax, and think for a moment. He ran out of the room, as did the other trainees. Chief Petty Officer Mendez and the trainers waited for them outside the classroom. “Time for the playground,” Mendez said, and waved the children closer. “It’s a short run. Fall in.” The “short run” turned into two miles. And the playground was like nothing John had ever seen. It was a forest of twenty-meter tall wooden poles. Rope cargo nets and bridges stretched between the poles; they swayed, crossed and crisscrossed one another, a maze suspended in the air. There were slide poles and knotted climbing ropes. There were swings and suspended platforms. There were ropes looped through pulleys and tied to baskets that looked sturdy enough to hoist a person. “Trainees,” Mendez said, “form three lines.” The instructors moved in to herd them, but John and the others made three rows without comment or fuss. “The first person in every row will be team number one,” Mendez said. “The second person in each row will be team number two… and so on. If you do not understand this, speak up now.” No one spoke. John looked to his right. A boy with sandy hair, green eyes, and darkly tanned skin gave him a weary smile. Stenciled on his sweat top was SAMUEL-034. In the row beyond Samuel was a girl. She was taller than John, and skinny, with a long mane of hair dyed blue. KELLY-087. She didn’t look too happy to see him. “Today’s game,” Mendez explained, “is called ‘Ring the Bell.’ ” He pointed to the tallest pole on the playground. It stood an additional ten meters above the others and had a steel slide pole next to it. Hung at the very top of that pole was a brass bell. “There are many ways to get to the bell,” he told them. “I leave it up to each team to find their own way. When every member of your team has rung the bell, you are to get groundside double time and run back here across this finish line.” Mendez took his baton and scratched a straight line in the sand. John raised his hand. Mendez glared at him for a moment with those black unblinking eyes. “A question, trainee?” “What do we win?” Mendez cocked one eyebrow and appraised John. “You win dinner, Number-117. Tonight, dinner is roast turkey, gravy and mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, brownies, and ice cream.” A murmur of approval swept though the children. “But,” Mendez added, “for there to be winners there must be a loser. The last team to finish goes without food.” The children fell silent—and then looked at each other warily.


“Make ready,” Mendez said. “I’m Sam,” the boy whispered to John and the girl on their team. She said, “I’m Kelly.” John just looked at them and said nothing. The girl would slow him down. Too bad. He was hungry and he wasn’t about to let them make him lose. “Go!” Mendez shouted. John ran through the pack of children and scrambled up a cargo net onto a platform. He raced across the bridge—jumped onto the next platform, just in time. The bridge flipped and sent five others into the water below. He paused at the rope tied to the large basket. It ran up through a pulley and then back down. He didn’t think he was strong enough to pull himself up in it. Instead, he tackled a knotted climbing rope and scrunched his body up. The rope swung wildly around the center pole. John looked down and almost lost his grip. It looked twice as far down as it had looked from the ground. He saw all the others, some climbing, others floundering in the water, getting up and starting over. No one was as close to the bell as he was. He swallowed his fear and kept climbing up. He thought of the ice cream and chocolate brownies and how he was going to win. John got to the top, grabbed the bell, and rang it three times. He then clasped the steel pole and slid all the way to the ground, falling into a pile of cushions. He got up and ran smiling all the way to the Chief Petty Officer. John crossed the finish line and gave a victory cry. “I was first,” he said, panting. Mendez nodded and made a check on his clipboard. John watched as the others made it and up rang the bell, then raced across the finish line. Kelly and Sam had trouble. They got stuck in a line to get to the bell as everyone bunched up at the end. They finally rang the bell, slid down together… but they crossed the finish line last. They glared at John. He shrugged. “Good work, trainees,” Mendez said, and he beamed at them all. “Let’s get back to the barracks and chow down.” The children, covered in mud and leaning on each another, cheered. “—all except team three,” Mendez said, and looked at Sam, Kelly, and then John. “But I won,” John protested. “I was first.” “Yes, you were first,” Mendez explained, “but your team came in last.” He then addressed all the children. “Remember this: you don’t win unless your team wins. One person winning at the expense of the group means that you lose.” John ran in a stupor all the way back to the barracks. It wasn’t fair. He had won. How can you win and still lose? He watched as the others stuffed themselves with turkey, white meat dripping with gravy.


They spooned down mountains of vanilla ice cream and left the mess hall with chocolate encrusting the corners of their mouths. John got a liter of water. He drank it, but it didn’t have any taste. It did nothing to fill his hunger. He wanted to cry, but he was too tired. He collapsed in his bunk, thinking of ways to get even with Sam and Kelly for messing him up—but he couldn’t think. Every muscle and bone ached. John fell asleep as soon as his head hit the flat pillow. * * * The next day was the same—calisthenics and running all morning, then class until the afternoon. Today Déjà taught them about wolves. The classroom became a holographic meadow, and the children watched seven wolves hunt a moose. The pack worked together, striking wherever the giant beast wasn’t facing. It was fascinating and horrifying to watch the wolves track down, and then devour, an animal many times their size. John avoided Sam and Kelly in the classroom. He stole a few extra crackers when no one was looking, but they didn’t dull his hunger. After class, they ran back to the playground. Today it was different. There were fewer bridges and more complicated rope-and-pulley systems. The pole with the bell was now twenty meters taller than any of the others. “Same teams as yesterday,” Mendez announced. Sam and Kelly walked up to John. Sam shoved him. John’s temper flared—he wanted to hit Sam in the face, but he was too tired. He’d need all his strength to get to the bell. “You better help us,” Sam hissed, “or I’ll push you off one of those platforms.” “And I’ll jump on top of you,” Kelly added. “Okay,” John whispered. “Just try not to slow me down.” John examined the course. It was like doing a maze on paper, only this one twisted and turned into and out of the page. Many bridges and rope ladders led to dead ends. He squinted—then found one possible route. He nudged Sam and Kelly, then pointed. “Look,” he said, “that basket and rope on the far side. It goes straight to the top. It’s a long pull, though.” He flexed his biceps, uncertain if he could make it in his weakened state. “We can do it,” Sam said. John glanced at the other teams; they were searching the course as well. “We’ll have to make a quick run for it,” he said. “Make sure no one else gets there first.” “I’m fast,” Kelly said. “Real fast.” “Trainees, get ready,” Mendez shouted. “Okay,” John said. “You sprint ahead and hold it for us.” “Go!” Kelly shot forward. John had never seen anyone move like her. She ran like the wolves he had seen today; her feet seemed barely to touch the ground. She got to the basket. John and Sam were only halfway there. One boy beat them to the basket. “Get out,” he ordered Kelly.


“I’m going up.” Sam and John ran up and pushed him back. “Wait your turn,” Sam said. John and Sam joined Kelly in the basket. Together they pulled on the rope and raised themselves up. There was a lot of rope—for every three meters they pulled, they only rose one meter. A breeze made the basket sway and bounce into the pole. “Faster,” John urged. They pulled as one person, six hands working in unison, and accelerated into the sky. They didn’t get there first. They were third. Each of them got to ring the bell, though—Kelly, Sam, and John. They slid down the pole. Kelly and Sam waited for John to land, and then together they ran across the finish line. Chief Petty Officer Mendez watched them. He didn’t say anything, but John thought he saw a smile flicker across his face. Sam clapped John and Kelly on their backs. “That was good work,” Sam said. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “We can be friends… I mean, if you want. It’d be no big deal.” Kelly shrugged and replied, “Sure.” “Okay,” John said. “Friends.”


Chapter Five 0630 HOURS, JULY 12, 2519 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM, REACH MILITARY WILDERNESS TRAINING PRESERVE, PLANET REACH John held on tight as the dropship accelerated up and over a jagged snowcapped mountain range. The sun peeked over the horizon and washed the white snow with pinks and oranges. The other members of his unit pressed their faces to the windows and watched. Sam sat next to him and looked outside. “Nice place for a snowball fight.” “You’ll lose,” Kelly said. She leaned over John’s shoulder to get a better look at the terrain. “I’m a dead aim with snowballs.” She scratched the stubble of her shorn hair. “Dead is right,” John muttered. “Especially when you load them with rocks.” CPO Mendez stepped from the cockpit into the passenger compartment. The trainees stood and snapped to attention. “At ease, and sit down.” The silver at Mendez’s temples had grown to a band across the side of his closely shaved hair, but if anything he had gotten stronger and tougher since John had first laid eyes on him two years ago. “Today’s mission will be simple for a change.” Mendez’s voice easily penetrated the roar of the dropship’s engines. He handed a stack of papers to Kelly. “Pass these out, recruit.” “Sir!” She saluted smartly and handed one paper to each of the seventy-five children in the squad. “These are portions of maps of the local region. You will be set down by yourselves. You will then navigate to a marked extraction point and we will pick you up there.” John turned his map over. It was just one part of a much larger map—no drop or extraction point marked. How was he supposed to navigate without a reference point? But he knew this was part of the mission, to answer that question on his own. “One more thing,” Mendez said. “The last trainee to make it to the extraction point will be left behind.” He glanced out a window. “And it’s a very long walk back.” John didn’t like it. He wasn’t going to lose, but he didn’t want anyone else to lose, either. The thought of Kelly or Sam or any of the others marching all the way back made him uneasy… if they could make it all the way back alone over those mountains. “First drop in three minutes,” Mendez barked. “Trainee 117, you’re up first.” “Sir! Yes, sir!” John replied. He glanced out the window and scanned the terrain. There was a ring of jagged mountains, a valley thick with cedars, and a ribbon of silver—a river that fed into a lake. John nudged Sam, pointed to the river, then jerked his thumb toward the lake. Sam nodded, then pulled Kelly aside and pointed out the window. Kelly and Sam moved quickly down the line of seated trainees. The ship decelerated. John felt his stomach rise as they dropped toward the ground.


“Trainee 117: front and center.” Mendez stepped to the rear of the compartment as the ship’s tail split and a ramp extended. Cold air blasted into the ship. He patted John on the shoulder. “Watch out for wolves in the forest, 117.” “Yes, sir!” John looked over his shoulder at the others. His teammates gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Good, everyone got his message. He ran down the ramp and into the forest. The dropship’s engines roared to life and it rose high into the cloudless sky. He zipped up his jacket. He wore only fatigues, boots, and a heavy parka—not exactly the gear he’d pack for a prolonged stay in the wilderness. John started toward one particularly sharp peak he had spotted from the air; the river lay in that direction. He’d follow it downstream and meet the others at the lake. He marched through the woods until he heard the gurgling of a stream. He got close enough to see the direction of the flow, then headed back into the forest. Mendez’s exercises often had a twist to them—stun mines on the obstacle course, snipers with paint pellet guns during parade drills. And with the Chief up in that dropship, John wasn’t about to reveal his position unless he had a good reason. He passed a blueberry bush and took the time to strip it before he moved on. This was the first time in months he had been alone and could just think. He popped a handful of berries into his mouth and chewed. He thought about the place that had been his home, his parents… but more and more that seemed like a dream. John knew it wasn’t, and that he had once had a different life. But this was the life he wanted. He was a soldier. He had an important job to train for. Mendez said they were the Navy’s best and brightest. That they were the only hope for peace. He liked that. Before, he never knew what he would be when he grew up. He never really thought about anything other than watching vids and playing—nothing had been a challenge. Now every day was a challenge and a new adventure. John knew more things, thanks to Déjà, than he ever thought he could have learned at his old school: algebra and trigonometry, the history of a hundred battles and kings. He could string a trip line, fire a rifle, and treat a chest wound. Mendez had shown him how to be strong… not only with his body, but strong with his head, too. He had a family here: Kelly, Sam, and all the others in his squad. The thought of his squadmates brought him back to Mendez’s mission—one of them was going to be left behind. There had to be a way to get them all home. John decided he wasn’t going to leave if he couldn’t figure it out. He arrived at the edge of the lake, stood, and listened.


John heard an owl hooting in the distance. He marched toward the sound. “Hey, owl,” he said when he was close. Sam stepped out from behind a tree and grinned. “That’s ‘Chief Owl’ to you, trainee.” They walked around the circumference of the lake, gathering the rest of the children in the squad. John counted them to make sure: seventy-four. “Let’s get the map pieces together,” Kelly suggested. “Good idea,” John said. “Sam, take three and scout the area. I don’t want any of the Chief’s surprises sneaking up on us.” “Right.” Sam picked Fhajad, James, and Linda, and then the four of them took off into the brush. Kelly collected the map pieces and settled in the shade of an ancient cedar tree. “Some of these don’t belong, and some are copies,” she said, and she laid them out. “Yes, here’s an edge. Got it—this is the lake, the river, and here…” She pointed to a distant patch of green. “That’s got to be the extraction point.” She shook her head and frowned. “If the legend on this map is right, it’s a full day’s hike, though. We better get started.” John whistled and a moment later Sam and his scouts returned. “Let’s move out,” John said. No one argued. They fell into line behind Kelly as she navigated. Sam blazed the trail ahead. He had the best eyes and ears. Several times he stopped and signaled everyone to freeze or hide—but it turned out to be just a rabbit or a bird. After several miles of marching, Sam dropped back. He whispered to John, “This is too easy. It’s not like any of the Chief’s normal field exercises.” John nodded. “I’ve been thinking that, too. Just keep your eyes and ears sharp.” They stopped at noon to stretch and eat berries they had gathered along the trail. Fhajad spoke up. “I want to know one thing,” he said. He paused to wipe the sweat off his dark skin. “We’re going to get to the extraction point at the same time. So who’s getting left behind? We should decide now.” “Draw straws,” someone suggested. “No,” John said, and stood. “No one’s being left behind. We’re going to figure a way to get all of us out.” “How?” Kelly asked, scratching her head. “Mendez said—” “I know what he said. But there’s got to be a way—I just haven’t thought of one yet. Even if it has to be me that stays behind—I’ll make sure everyone gets back to the base.” John started marching again. “Come on, we’re wasting time.” The others fell in behind him. The shadows of the trees lengthened and melted together and the sun turned the edge of the sky red. Kelly halted and motioned for everyone else to stop. “We’re almost there,” she whispered. “Me and Sam will scout it out,” John said. “Everyone fall out… and keep quiet.” The rest of the children silently followed his orders.