The Fall of Reach h-1

by Eric Nylund

  “The Covenant’s science is imitative rather then innovative, a by-product of this societal ‘absorption,’ ” Dr. Halsey continued. “This is not to say that they are lacking intelligence, however. During our first encounter they gathered computer and network components from our destroyed ships... and they learned at an astonishing pace.

  “By the time Admiral Cole’s fleet arrived at Harvest, the Covenant initiated a communications link and attempted a primitive software infiltration of our ship AIs. In a matter of weeks, they had learned the rudiments of our computer systems and our language. Our own attempts to decipher Covenant computer systems have only been partially successful, despite our best efforts and decades of time.

  “Since then they have made increasingly successful forays into our computer networks. That is why the Cole Protocol is so important and carries the punishment of treason for failure to comply. The Covenant may one day not need to capture a ship to steal the information within its navigational databanks.”

  The Master Chief stole a glance at Captain Keyes. The Captain cupped an antique pipe in one hand; the Navy officer puffed on it once, and stared thoughtfully at Dr. Halsey and the examples of the Covenant vessels. He slowly shook his head.

  “As I stated earlier,” Dr. Halsey continued, “the Covenant are a collection of genetically distinct groups in what we believe is a rigid caste system.” She waved toward the Grunts and Jackals. “These are most likely part of their military or warrior caste—not the highest ranking caste, either, given how many are sacrificed during ground operations. We believe there is a ‘race’ of field commanders, which we are currently calling ‘Elites.’ ”

  She stepped toward the floating, tentacular aliens. “We believe these are their scientists.” As she moved closer, the figure animated; the image showed the creature disassembling an electric car of human manufacture. John instantly recognized his own battlefield recording.

  She pointed to the giant armored creatures. “This was recorded on Sigma Octanus Four. A heavily armored warrior superior to either Grunts or Jackals.” The massive aliens also sprang into motion, lumbering into combat, until Dr. Halsey froze the images in place.

  She turned and strolled back to the podium. “ONI hypothesizes at least two additional castes. A warrior capable of commanding ground forces and possibly piloting their ships, and a leadership caste. We have deciphered a handful of Covenant transmissions that refer to—” She paused, checking notes on the data screen in her glasses. “—Ah, yes. ‘Prophets.’ We believe that these Prophets are in fact the leadership caste, and that they are viewed by the Covenant rank and file with an almost religious reverence.”

  Dr. Halsey removed her glasses. “This is where you come in. Your mission will involve these so-called Prophets, and will be executed in four phases.

  “Phase one. You will engage the Covenant and sufficiently disable, but not destroy, one of their ships.” She turned to face Captain Keyes. “I leave that in the capable hands of Captain Keyes and his newly refitted ship, the Pillar of Autumn.”

  Captain Keyes acknowledged her compliment with a curt nod. He tapped the stem of his pipe on his lips thoughtfully.

  The Master Chief was unaware of any Covenant ship ever being captured. He had read the reports of Captain Keyes’ actions at Sigma Octanus IV... and considered the odds of actually capturing a Covenant vessel. Even for a Spartan, it would be a difficult mission.

  “Phase two,” Dr. Halsey said. “Spartans will board the disabled Covenant ship—neutralize the crew, and crack their navigation database. We will do precisely what they have been trying to do to us: find the location of their home world.”

  The Master Chief raised his hand.

  “Yes, Master Chief?”

  “Ma’am. We will be given mission specialist personnel to access the Covenant computers?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” she said, and looked away. “I will come to that point in a moment. Let me assure you, however, that these specialists will cause you no serious complications during this phase. In fact, they will prove rather useful in combat. Shortly, you shall have a demonstration.”

  Like Captain Keyes’ statement that winning wasn’t everything... Dr. Halsey’s reply was another puzzle. How would such computer specialists not be a liability to the Spartans in combat? Even if they could fight, it was unlikely they’d be anything but weak links in combat. If they couldn’t fight, the Spartans would be forced to baby-sit a vulnerable package in a hot combat zone.

  “Phase three,” Dr. Halsey said, “will consist of taking the captured Covenant ship to their homeworld.”

  Several questions immediately formed in the Master Chief’s mind. Who would pilot the alien ship? Had any one ever deciphered the Covenant control systems? It seemed unlikely since the UNSC had never captured one of their ships before. Were there Covenant recognition signals that had to be sent when entering their space? Or would they just steal their way in-system?

  When a plan had so many missing pieces of data, the Spartans had been trained to stop and reconsider its effectiveness. Unanswered questions led to complications—“snags.” And snags led to injuries, death, and failed missions. Simple was better.

  He held his questions, though. Dr. Halsey surely would have planned for these eventualities.

  “Phase four,” she continued, “will be to infiltrate and capture the Covenant leadership and return with them to UNSC-controlled space.”

  The Master Chief shifted uneasily. There was no intel or reconnaissance of Covenant-held space. What did a Covenant leader—a Prophet—even look like?

  Chief Mendez had told him to trust Dr. Halsey. The Master Chief decided to hear all the details before he asked any further questions. To do so might undermine her authority. And that’s the last thing he needed the other Spartans to see.

  And yet, there was one thing he had to clarify. The Master Chief raised his hand again.

  She nodded toward him.

  “Dr. Halsey,” he said, “you did say ‘capture’ the Covenant leaders—not eliminate them?”

  “Correct,” she replied. “Our profile of Covenant society indicates that if you were to kill one of their leader caste, this war could actually escalate. Your orders are to preserve any captured Covenant leaders at all costs. You will bring them back to UNSC headquarters, where we will then use them to broker a truce, possibly even negotiate a peace treaty with the Covenant.”

  Peace? The Master Chief considered the unfamiliar word. Was that what Captain Keyes had meant? The alternative to winning wasn’t necessarily losing. If you chose not to play a game, then there could be neither winning nor losing.

  Dr. Halsey took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Some of you already suspect this, but I shall state it anyway for emphasis. It is my opinion, and that of many others, that the war is not going well... despite our recent victories. What is not widely known is how badly it is going for us. ONI predicts that we have months, perhaps as much as a standard year, before the Covenant locates and destroys our remaining Inner Colonies... and then moves against Earth.”

  The Master Chief had heard the rumors—and promptly dismissed them—but to hear the words from someone he trusted chilled him to the core.

  “Your mission will prevent this,” Dr. Halsey said. She stopped and frowned, lowered her head, then finally looked up at them again. “This op is considered extremely high risk. There are unknown elements involved and we simply do not have the time to gather the required intelligence. I have persuaded FLEETCOM not to order you on this mission. Admiral Stanforth is asking for volunteers.”

  The Master Chief understood. Dr. Halsey was unsure if she would be spending their lives or wasting them on this mission.

  He stood without hesitation—and as he did so, the rest of the Spartans stood as well.

  “Good,” she said. She paused and blinked several times. “Very good. Thank you.”

  She stepped away from the podium. “We will meet with you individually within a fe
w days to continue your briefing. I will show you how you will get our computer experts on board the Covenant vessel... and I will show you the one thing that will let you get through this mission in one piece: MJOLNIR.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  0600 Hours, August 29, 2552 (Military Calendar)

  Epsilon Eridani System, UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B, planet Reach

  The firing range was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally, the air would be filled with noise—the sharp, staccato crackle of automatic-weapons fire; the urgent yells of soldiers practicing combat operations; and the barked, curse-laden orders of drill instructors. John frowned as he guided the Warthog to the security checkpoint.

  The silence on the combat range was somehow unsettling.

  Even more unsettling were the extra security personnel; today, there were three times the normal number of MPs patrolling the gate.

  John parked the Warthog and was approached by a trio of MPs. “State your business here, sir,” the lead MP demanded.

  Without a word, John handed over his papers—orders direct from the top brass. The MP visibly stiffened. “Sir, my apologies. Dr. Halsey and the others are waiting for you at the P and R area.”

  The guard saluted, and waved the gate open.

  On survey maps, the combat training range was listed as “UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B.” The soldiers who trained there had a different name for it—“Painland.” John knew the facility well; a great deal of the Spartans’ early training had taken place there.

  The range was divided into three areas: a live-fire obstacle course; a target practice range; and the P&R—“Prep and Recovery” area—which more often than not doubled as an emergency first-aid station. John had spent plenty of time in the aid station during his training.

  The Master Chief walked briskly to the prefabricated structure. Another pair of MPs, MA5B assault rifles at the ready, double-checked his credentials before they admitted him to the building.

  “Ah, here at last,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Let’s go, son, on the double, if you please.”

  John paused; the speaker was an older man, at least in his sixties, in the coveralls and lab coat of a ship’s doctor. No rank insignia, though, John thought with a twinge of concern. For a moment, the image of his fellow Spartans—very young, and clubbing, kicking, and beating un-uniformed instructors into unconsciousness flashed into his memory with crystal clarity.

  “Who are you, sir?” he asked, his voice cautious.

  “I’m a Captain in the UNSC Navy, son,” the man said with a thin-lipped smile, “and I’ve no time for spit and polish today. Let’s go.”

  A Captain—and new orders. Good. “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain in the lab coat escorted him into the P&R’s medical bay. “Undress, please,” the man said.

  John quickly disrobed, then stacked his neatly folded uniform on a nearby gurney. The Captain stepped behind him and began to swab John’s neck and the back of his head with a foul-smelling liquid. The liquid felt ice-cold on his skin.

  A moment later, Dr. Halsey entered. “This will just take a moment, Master Chief. We’re going to upgrade a few components in your standard-issue neural interface. Lie back and remain still, please.”

  The Master Chief did as she said. A technician sprayed a topical anesthetic on his neck. The skin tingled, then went cold and numb. The Master Chief felt layers of skin incised, and then a series of distinct clicking sounds that echoed through his skull. There was a brief laser pulse and another spray. He saw sparks, felt the room spin, then a sense of vertigo. His vision blurred; he blinked rapidly and it quickly returned to normal.

  “Good... the procedure is complete,” Dr. Halsey said. “Please follow me.”

  The Captain handed the Master Chief a paper gown. He slipped it on and followed the doctor outside.

  A field command dome had been assembled on the range. Its white fabric walls rippled in the breeze.

  Ten MPs stood around the structure, assault rifles in hand. The Master Chief noted these weren’t regular Marines. They wore the gold comet insignia of Special Forces Orbital Drop Shock Troopers—“Helljumpers.” Tough and iron-disciplined. A flash of memory: the blood of troops—just like these—soaking into the mat of a boxing ring.

  John felt his adrenaline spike as soon as he saw the soldiers.

  Dr. Halsey approached the MP at the entrance and presented her credentials. They accepted them and scanned her retina and voiceprint, then did the same to the Master Chief.

  Once they confirmed his identify, they immediately saluted—which was technically unnecessary, as the Master Chief was out of uniform.

  He did them the courtesy of returning their salute.

  The soldiers kept looking around, scanning the field, as if they were expecting something to happen. John’s discomfort grew—not much spooked an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper.

  Dr. Halsey led the Master Chief inside. In the center of the dome stood an empty suit of MJOLNIR armor, suspended between two pillars on a raised platform. The Master Chief knew it was not his suit. His, after years of use, had dents and scratches in the alloy plates and the once iridescent green finish had dulled to a worn olive brown.

  This suit was spotless and its surface possessed a subtle metallic sheen. He noted the armor plates were slightly thicker, and the black underlayers had a more convoluted weave of components. The fusion pack was half again as large, and tiny luminous slits glowed near the articulation points.

  “This is the real MJOLNIR,” Dr. Halsey whispered to him. “What you have been using was only a fraction of what the armor should be. This—” She turned to the Master Chief. “—is everything I had always dreamed it could be. Please put the suit on.”

  The Master Chief stripped the paper gown off and—with the help of a pair of technicians—donned the armor components.

  Dr. Halsey averted her eyes.

  Although the armor’s components were bulkier and heavier than his old suit, once assembled and activated, they felt light as air. The armor was a perfect fit. The biolayer warmed and adhered to his skin, then cooled as the temperature difference between the suit and his skin equalized.

  “We’ve made hundreds of minor technical improvements,” she said. “I’ll have the specifications sent to you later. Two of those changes, however, are rather serious modifications to the system. It may take... some getting used to.”

  Dr. Halsey’s brow furrowed. John had never seen her worried before.

  “First,” she told him, “we have replicated, and I might add, improved upon the energy shield the Covenant Jackals have been using against us to great effect.”

  This armor had shields? The Master Chief had known that ONI research had been working on adapting Covenant technology; Spartans had standing orders to capture Covenant machines wherever they could. The researchers and engineers had announced some breakthroughs in artificial gravity—some UNSC ships were already undergoing trials with the grav systems.

  The fact that the MJOLNIR armor possessed shields was a stunning breakthrough. For years, there had been no luck back-engineering Covenant shield tech. Most in the scientific community had given up hope of ever cracking it. Maybe that’s why Dr. Halsey was worried. Maybe they hadn’t worked out all the bugs.

  Dr. Halsey nodded to the technicians. “Let’s begin.”

  The techs turned to a series of instrument panels. One, a slightly younger man, donned a COM headset.

  “Okay, Master Chief.” The tech’s voice crackled through John’s helmet speakers. “There’s an activation icon in your heads-up display. There is also a manual control switch located at position twelve in your helmet.”

  He chinned the control. Nothing happened.

  “Wait a moment, please, sir. We have to give the suit an activation charge. After that, it can accept regenerative power from the fusion pack. Stand on the platform and be absolutely still.”

  He stepped onto the platform that had held the MJOLNIR armor. The pi
llars flickered on and glowed a brilliant yellow. The pillars started to spin slowly around the base of the platform.

  The Master Chief felt a static charge tingling in his extremities. The glow intensified and his helmet’s blast shield automatically dimmed. The charge in the air intensified; his skin crawled with ionization. He smelled ozone.

  Then the spinning slowed and the light dimmed.

  “Reset the activation button now, Master Chief.”

  The air around the Master Chief popped—as if it jumped away from the MJOLNIR armor. There was none of the shimmer that normal Covenant shields had. Was it working?

  He ran his hand over his arm and encountered resistance a centimeter from the surface of the armor. It was working.

  How many times had he and his teammates had to find ways to slip past a Jackal’s shield? He’d have to rethink his tactics. Rethink everything.

  “It provides full coverage—” Dr. Halsey’s voice piped through the speakers. “—and dissipates energy far more efficiently than the Covenant shields the Spartans have recovered, though the shield is concentrated on your arms, head, legs, chest, and back. The energy field tapers down to a hair under a millimeter so you don’t lose the ability to hold or manipulate items with your hands.”

  The lead technician activated another control, and new data scrawled across John’s display. “There’s a segmented bar in the upper corner of your HUD,” the technician said, “right next to your biomonitor and ammunition indicators. It indicates the charge level of your shield. Don’t let it completely dissipate; when it’s gone, the armor starts taking the hits.”

  The Master Chief slipped off the platform. He skidded—then came to a halt. His movements felt oiled. His contact with the floor felt tentative.

  “You can adjust the bottom of your boot emitters as well as the emitters inside your gloves to increase traction. In normal use, you will want to set these to the minimal level—just be aware your defenses will be diminished in those locations.”

  “Understood.” He adjusted the field strengths. “In zero-gee environment I should increase those sections to full strength, correct?”