“Reactor shakedown eighty percent complete,” Lieutenant Hall reported. “Oxygen, power, rotation, andpressure all green lights, sir.” She smiled, but it wasn’t like before—an automatic gesture. She seemed
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genuinely happy.
Lieutenant Hikowa took her seat and strapped in. She gathered her black hair and tied it into a knot.“Weapons panel shows green, sir. MAC gun capacitors at zero charge.”
Ensign Lovell finally reported: “Navigation and sensor systems online, Captain, and all green. Ready foryour orders.” Lovell was completely focused on his station.
A small hologram of Cortana flickered on the AI pedestal near navigation. “Engine shakedown runningsmoothly, Captain,” she said. “All personnel onboard. You have half-power now if you wish to movethe ship. Fujikawa-Shaw generators on-line . . . you can take us into the Slipstream at your pleasure.”
“Very good,” Captain Keyes said.
Keyes surveyed his crew, pleased at how they had sharpened up after Sigma Octanus. Gone were thebleary, haggard expressions, and the tentative, nervous mannerisms.
Good, he thought. We’re going to need everyone at the top of their game now.
The crew had been briefed on their mission—part of it anyway. Captain Keyes had insisted. They weretold they would be attempting to capture Covenant technology, with an aim to disabling one of thealiens’ ships and bringing it back intact.
What the crew didn’t know were the stakes.
“Approaching Reach system’s edge,” Ensign Lovell reported. “Ready to generate a Slipstream—”
“Captain!” Lieutenant Dominique cried. “Incoming Alpha priority transmission from FLEETCOM HQat Reach . . . sir, they’re under Covenant attack!”
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SECTION V
REACH
CHAPTER THIRTY
0000 Hours, August 29, 2552 (Military Calendar) / narrow-band point-to-point transmission:origin UNKNOWN; termination: Section Three, Omega secure antenna array, UNSC HQ EpsilonEridani System, Reach Military Complex
PLNBPriority Transmission XX087R-XX
Encryption Code:GAMMA
Public Key:N/A
From:CODENAME:COALMINER
To:CODENAME:SURGEON
Subject:PROGRESS REPORT/OPERATIONHYPODERMIC
Classification:EYES ONLY TOP SECRET (SECTION III X-RAY DIRECTIVE)
/file extraction-reconstitution complete/
/start file/
Secured space-dock repair bay. CorvetteCircumference undergoing final stealth upgrades. Shipyardrecords successfully altered.
Queries detected from transient AI. Operation deemed AT RISK of being uncovered.
As per contingency plan TANGO: ship registration numbers scrambled; hard isolated from docksidecomputer network; counterintrusion software implemented; Alpha security protocols enacted onboard.
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Just as you called it, sir. Don’t worry—as far as the station computers are concerned,Circumferencenever even existed.
/end file/
/scramble-destruction process enabled/
PressENTER to continue.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
0447 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) /Remote Sensing StationFermion, Epsilon Eridani System’s edge
Chief Petty Officer McRobb entered the command center of Remote Sensing StationFermion .Lieutenants (JG) Bill Streeter and David Brightling stood and saluted.
He wordlessly returned their salutes.
The wall-sized monitors displayed the contents of the last Slipstream probes: multidimensional charts, arainbow of false color enhancements, and a catalog of objects adrift in the alternate space. Some of thenew officers thought the representations looked “pretty.”
To Chief McRobb, however, each pixel on the screens represented danger. So many things could hide inmultidimensional space: pirates, black marketers . . . the Covenant.
McRobb inspected their duty stations. He double-checked that all programs and hardware were runningwithin UNSC specifications. He ran his hand along the monitors and keypads looking for dust. Theirstations were in tip-top shape.
Considering what they were guarding, Reach, anything less than perfection was unacceptable. He madecertain his crew knew it, too.
“Carry on,” he said.
Since the battle of Sigma Octanus, FLEETCOM had reassigned top people to its Remote SensingStations. Chief McRobb had been pulled from Fort York on the edge of the Inner Colonies. He had spentthe last three months helping his crew brush up on their abstract and complex algebras to interpret theprobe data.
“Ready to send out the next set of probes, sir,” Lieutenant Streeter said. “Linear accelerator andSlipspace generators online and charged.”
“Set for thirty-second return cycle and launch,” Chief McRobb ordered.
“Aye, sir. Probes away, sir. Accelerated and entering the Slipstream.”
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FLEETCOM didn’t really expect anything to attack the Reach Military Complex. It was the heart of theUNSC military operations. If anything did attack it, the battle would be a short one. There were twentySuper MAC guns in orbit. They could accelerate a three-thousand-ton projectile to point four-tenths thespeed of light—and place that projectile with pinpoint accuracy. If that wasn’t enough to stop aCovenant fleet, there were anywhere from a hundred to a hundred and fifty ships in the system at anygiven time.
Chief McRobb knew, though, there had been another military base that was once thought too strong toattack—and the military had paid the price for their lack of vigilance. He wasn’t about to let Reachbecome another Pearl Harbor. Not on his watch.
“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 lookat this?”
“On the board, Lieutenant.”
Radar and neutron imager silhouettes appeared on-screen—and filled the display. Chief McRobb hadnever seen anything like it in Slipstream space.
“Confirm that the data stream is not corrupted,” the Chief ordered. “I’m estimating that object is threethousand kilometers in diameter.”
“Affirmative . . . thirty-two-hundred-kilometer diameter confirmed, sir. Signal integrity is green. We’llhave 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 asteroidhad been logged—UNSC astrophysicists still weren’t sure how the things got into the alternatedimension. 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 meanright now . Lieutenant Brightling,remove the safety interlocks on the station’s reactor.”
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His junior officers hesitated for a moment—then they understood the gravity of their situation. Theymoved 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 UNSCastrophysics 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 agoddamn 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 whiteline, concentrating. “Beta probe returning, sir, in four . . . three . . . two . . . one. There. Off target onehundred twenty thousand kilometers. Signal is weak. The probe appears to be malfunctioning. Trying toscrub the signal now.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence that it’s malfunctioning, Streeter,” the Chief said. “Get FLEETCOM onAlpha 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 thecommand. “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 inseventeen seconds at the system’s outer edge at zero four one.” He inhaled sharply. “Sir, that’s only alight-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 tomonitor that region of space.”
Lieutenant Streeter turned and gazed into the rock-solid features of the Chief. He took a deep breath.
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“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 asif they were caught in a boiling liquid. Space stretched, smeared, and distorted. Half the stars in thatregion 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 tremblinghands 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 thefusion chamber with their deuterium reserve tanks. Chief McRobb said, “Just one last order to carry out.”
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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
0519 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) /UNSCPillar 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 hehad to brace his legs. ThePillar of Autumn was turning.
Every other Spartan in the storage bay felt it as well; they paused as they unloaded equipment fromcrates and readied the cryo tubes for their journey.
The lateral motion slowed and stopped. ThePillar of Autumn ’s engines rumbled like thunder throughthe 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 controlwas 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 orengaging 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 explainface-to-face. I’m on my way down to brief you. Keyes out.”
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John turned and the other Spartans snapped to their tasks. Those without specific orders checked andrechecked 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 ahundred 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 thePillar of Autumn had indeedturned 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 thecase. 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 lastthing 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 wesay.”
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. Itdoesn’t matter. Theyare 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
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