by Eric Nylund
“Probes returning, sir,” Lieutenant Brightling announced. “Alpha reentering normal space in three... two... one. Scanning sectors. Signal acquired at extraction point minus forty five thousand kilometers.”
“Process the signals and send out the recovery drone, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir. Getting signal lock on—” The Lieutenant squinted at his monitor. “Sir, would you take a look at this?”
“On the board, Lieutenant.”
Radar and neutron imager silhouettes appeared on-screen—and filled the display. Chief McRobb had never seen anything like it in Slipstream space.
“Confirm that the data stream is not corrupted,” the Chief ordered. “I’m estimating that object is three thousand kilometers in diameter.”
“Affirmative... thirty-two-hundred-kilometer diameter confirmed, sir. Signal integrity is green. We’ll have a trajectory for the planetoid as soon as Beta probe returns.”
It was rare for any natural object this large to be in Slipstream space. An occasional comet or asteroid had been logged—UNSC astrophysicists still weren’t sure how the things got into the alternate dimension. But there had never been anything like this. At least, not since—
“Oh my God,” McRobb whispered.
Not since Sigma Octanus.
“We’re not waiting for Beta probe,” Chief McRobb barked. “We are initiating the Cole Protocol. Lieutenant Streeter, purge the navigational database, and I mean right now. Lieutenant Brightling, remove the safety interlocks on the station’s reactor.”
His junior officers hesitated for a moment—then they understood the gravity of their situation. They moved quickly.
“Initiating viral data scavengers,” Lieutenant Streeter called out. “Dumping main and cache memory.” He turned in his seat, his face white. “Sir, the science library is offline for repairs. It has every UNSC astrophysics journal in it.”
“With navigation data on every star within a hundred light-years,” the Chief whispered. “Including Sol. Lieutenant, you get someone down there and destroy that data. I don’t care if they have to hit it with a goddamn sledgehammer—make sure that data is wiped.”
“Aye, sir!” Streeter turned to the COM and began issuing frantic orders.
“Safety interlocks red on the board,” Lieutenant Brightling reported. His lips pressed into a single white line, concentrating. “Beta probe returning, sir, in four... three... two... one. There. Off target one hundred twenty thousand kilometers. Signal is weak. The probe appears to be malfunctioning. Trying to scrub the signal now.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence that it’s malfunctioning, Streeter,” the Chief said. “Get FLEETCOM on Alpha channel on the double! Compress and send the duty log.”
“Aye, sir.” Lieutenant Streeter’s fingers fumbled with the keypad as he typed—then had to retype the command. “Logs sent.”
“Beta probe signal on the board,” Lieutenant Brightling reported. “Calculating the object’s trajectory...”
The planetoid was closer. Its edges, however, had abnormalities—bumps and spikes and protrusions.
Chief McRobb shifted and clenched his hands into fists.
“It will pass though Reach System,” Lieutenant Brightling said. “Intersecting the solar plane in seventeen seconds at the system’s outer edge at zero four one.” He inhaled sharply. “Sir, that’s only a light-second away from us.”
Lieutenant Streeter stood and knocked over his chair, almost backing into the Chief.
McRobb righted the chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant. We’ve got a job to do. Target the telescope array to monitor that region of space.”
Lieutenant Streeter turned and gazed into the rock-solid features of the Chief. He took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” He sat back down. “Aye, sir, moving the array.”
“Gamma probe returning in three... two... one.” Lieutenant Brightling paused. “There’s no signal, sir. Scanning. Time plus four seconds and counting. Probe may have translated on a temporal axis.”
“I don’t think so,” the Chief murmured.
Lieutenant Streeter said, “Telescope array now on target, sir. On the main view screen.”
Pinpoints of green light appeared at the edge of the Reach solar system. They collected and swarmed as if they were caught in a boiling liquid. Space stretched, smeared, and distorted. Half the stars in that region were blotted out.
“Radar contact,” Lieutenant Brightling said. “Contact with... more than three hundred large objects.” His hands started to shake. “Sir, silhouettes match known Covenant profiles.”
“They’re accelerating,” Lieutenant Streeter whispered. “On an intercept course for the station.”
“FLEETCOM network connections are being infiltrated,” Lieutenant Brightling said. His trembling hands could barely type in commands. “Cutting our connection.”
Chief McRobb stood as straight as he could. “What about the astrophysics data?”
“Sir, they’re still trying to end the diagnostic cycle, but that takes a few minutes.”
“Then we don’t have a lot of options,” McRobb muttered.
He set his hand on Lieutenant Brightling’s shoulder to steady the young officer. “It’s all right, Lieutenant. We’ve done the best we could. We’ve done our duty. There’s nothing more to worry about.”
He set his palmprint on the control station. The Chief locked out the reactor safeties and saturated the fusion chamber with their deuterium reserve tanks. Chief McRobb said, “Just one last order to carry out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
0519 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Epsilon Eridani System’s edge
Something was wrong.
John felt it in his stomach first: a slight lateral acceleration—that became a spin strong enough that he had to brace his legs. The Pillar of Autumn was turning.
Every other Spartan in the storage bay felt it as well; they paused as they unloaded equipment from crates and readied the cryo tubes for their journey.
The lateral motion slowed and stopped. The Pillar of Autumn’s engines rumbled like thunder through the hull of the ship.
Kelly approached him. “Sir? I thought we were accelerating to enter Slipspace?”
“So did I. Have Fred and Joshua continue to prep the tubes. Have Linda get a team and secure our gear. I’ll find out what’s going on.”
“Aye, sir.”
The Master Chief marched toward the intercom panel. He hated being on spaceships. The lack of control was disturbing. He and the other Spartans were just extra cargo in a space battle.
He hesitated as he reached for the intercom. If Captain Keyes was involved in some tricky maneuver or engaging an enemy, the last thing he needed was an interruption.
He pressed the button. “Cortana? We’ve changed course. Is there a problem?”
Instead of her voice, however, Captain Keyes spoke over the channel: “Captain Keyes to Spartan 117.”
He replied, “Here, sir.”
“There’s been a change in plans,” Keyes said. There was a long pause. “This will be easier to explain face-to-face. I’m on my way down to brief you. Keyes out.”
John turned and the other Spartans snapped to their tasks. Those without specific orders checked and rechecked their weapons and assembled their combat gear.
They had all heard the Captain, however. The sound receivers in their armor could pick up a whisper at a hundred meters.
And the Spartans didn’t have to be told this was trouble.
John clicked on the monitor near the intercom. The fore camera showed the Pillar of Autumn had indeed turned about. Reach’s sun blazed in the center of the screen. They were heading back.
Was something wrong with the ship? No. Captain Keyes wouldn’t be coming to brief him if that was the case. There was definitely a snag.
The elevator doors opened and Captain Keyes stepped off the lift.
“Captain on the deck!” the Master Chief
shouted.
The Spartans stood at attention.
“At ease,” Captain Keyes said. The expression on the Captain’s face suggested that “ease” was the last thing on his mind. He smoothed his thumb over the antique pipe the Master Chief had seen him carry.
“There is something very wrong,” Keyes said. He glanced at the other Spartans. “Let’s talk in private,” he told the Master Chief in a low voice. He walked to the monitor over the intercom.
“Sir,” the Master Chief said. “Unless you wish to leave the deck, the Spartans will hear everything we say.”
Keyes looked at the Spartans and frowned. “I see. 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 REACH, JERICO, and TANTALUS systems
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 USNC 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. 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 to 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.”
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, used 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.
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.
